


In Name

by thegeekgene



Series: In Name [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M, Petstuck, Reverse Petstuck, humans as pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegeekgene/pseuds/thegeekgene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CA: you knoww i livve wwith my hatchmate right<br/>CA: cronus<br/>CG: AS MUCH AS I'D LIKE TO DENY ANY AND ALL MEMORY OF CRONUS, I KEEP FUCKING REMEMBERING. WHAT ABOUT HIM?<br/>CG: OH.<br/>CG: OH, SHIT.<br/>CG: ERIDAN.<br/>CG: DID CRONUS BRING HOME A FUCKING BABY?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eridan's seen humans before. He's a troll of the world, he's been everywhere, seen everything, or at least read about it in historical fantasy novels of dubious quality. He is also one tough, unflappable motherfucker and is not in the least perturbed by the quivering mess of pink-skinned bone his hatch- and hive-mate has just placed on the nutrition block table before him.

“The shit is that?”

“A human,” Cronus tells him. “Little grub hume.”

Eridan sniffs because that question was rhetorical. Obviously. To reiterate, he has seen humans before – even the grubs. Vris has got one, Kan's got one, Nep and Kar've got two each. Okay, one of Kar's is really Sol's but it amounts to the same, Sol not bein' the best of the human guardians. Eridan's met loads of them. Hell, he was there when Vris found John and got the shock of his life when she didn't run him through with her blunted cosplay sword. There he'd been, all wigglin' and squallin' in a cave where they were out FLARPing, barely a couple of perigees old, and Vris had stared and stared then picked him up and said, “Game's over.” And the next time they played she had him bound up in a little sack on her chest, gigglin' at swordfights. Eridan still has no idea how he got in that cave.

“Where the fuck'd you get that?” He leans in to get a better look at the pasty little creature plonked down before him.

“Found him on the way back,” Cronus says. “Thought we could use somethin' to liven up this joint, ya' know. Cute little fucker, ain't he?”

“Malnourished little fucker is what he is,” Eridan replies. “How the fuck – shit, he's filthy. Did you drag him outta a ditch?” He doesn't wait for a response. “We better – fuck, run the sink, all right, an I'll get shampoo an' stuff. We gotta clean his smelly ass up if he's gonna be stayin' here.”

 

Cleaned up and wrapped in towels, the kid's facial expression – blank – hasn't changed, but at least some of the fearful tension has drained from his bony frame. Eridan's kind of relieved by that. He may not have wanted a pet, but fuck if that means he can deal with the little human sitting around his hive like he's expecting to end up on the business end of Ahab's Crosshairs.

Eridan's on the couch in their recreation block, holding the kid while Cronus mops up the nutrition block – they'd made more of a mess trying to cobathe him than the weirdly stoic child had being bathed. Really weirdly stoic, Eridan thinks. He hadn't made a sound, hadn't said – a word. Words. They can do words, right? Humans? They talk. He remembers John's excited babbling, the time or two he met him, and Nep's always going on about the conversations she has with hers – Jake, that's his name. And Jade, the other one, who only consents to come in when it rains. Weird fuckin' names. Speakin' of.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, kid.”

The kid looks up at him and blinks improbable red eyes once.

“You got a name? I mean, we could just call you 'kid' but I promise that'll get old fast.”

The little human regards him a moment or two longer, eyes narrowed, just a bit. They're the red of Karkat's hatchmate's eyes, the red of human blood.

After a second more, as Eridan is starting to think he might not know how to talk or not be able to – are there different breeds? do some not talk? he has no idea – the kid clears his throat, an unhealthy rasp of a sound, and speaks, an unhealthy rasp of a voice.

“Dave Strider,” he says. “Who're you?”

Cronus emerges from the ablution block in time to hear Dave break his silence and shoots Eridan a less smarmy smile than usual. Eridan half-returns it and looks back to Dave as Cronus comes to sit beside them.

“Eridan Ampora,” he says. “An' this is Cronus, my ill-mannered hatchmate. The fuck is wrong with you, not even introducin' yourself before you brought him home?”

“You're the one who was all 'lets strip him down and scrub him' without even a fuckin' handshake,” Cronus replies, comfortable. “I'd say we're equal offenders to etiquette. Sorry, kid.”

“Okay,” says Dave. “Are you keeping me?”

It's impossible to tell how he feels about this prospect. No one should be this fucking unreadable naked and teeny and wrapped in a towel.

“I think that's the plan as we have it,” Eridan tells him, with another glance at Cronus. “Less you have some objection, a' course. We could take you off to a shelter tomorrow if stayin' with us seems like such a burden.”

Dave stares at him.

“It ain't a dingy old coat an' a back alley waste disposal unit,” Cronus puts in, “but it's home.”

“You were under a dumpster?” Eridan asks Dave, horrified.

“Priss,” Cronus says.

Dave answers, “Beside it. I couldn't fit underneath.”

Eridan lets out a breath.

“Glad to fuckin' hear it, kid,” he says. “There's some places ain't fit for neither troll nor human an' that's one a them. An' yeah,” he adds, more firmly than before, “we're keepin' you.”

“Cool,” Dave says.

 

CA: kar  
CA: kar  
CA: gogdam kar answwer me  
CA: before i flip fishshit  
CA: all ovver the gogdam place  
CA: kar  
CA: kar  
CA: karkat  
CG: I WAS IN THE LOADGAPER, FUCKASS, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.  
CG: SHIT, YOU JUST USED MY FULL NAME. IF THAT'S ALL IT TAKES, I'LL HAVE TO IGNORE YOU MORE OFTEN. MAKE A NOTE AND REMIND ME.  
CA: i wwill do no such thing  
CA: you already ignore me like ill givve you any excuse to do it evven more  
CG: DID YOU TROLL ME FOR A REASON? OR ARE YOU JUST LOOKING FOR AN AUDIENCE FOR THE ERIDAN AMPORA SELF-PITY HOUR? BECAUSE IF IT'S THE LATTER, I'LL HAVE TO CORDIALLY FUCKING DECLINE.  
CG: I HAVE GENITALS TO RUN THROUGH AN EXPIRED DAIRY GRATER.  
CA: i need help kar  
CA: you gotta help me  
CA: youre the only one wwho can  
CA: wwell sol maybe could but fuck if im asking him  
CA: its on you kar  
CA: its all on you  
CA: help  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK WITH?  
CG: NO, I WILL NOT PAIL YOU, AMPORA, NOR WILL I COOPERATE IN ANY ILL-CONCEIVED SCHEME YOU MAY HAVE HATCHED TO CONVINCE ANY OTHER POOR, UNSUSPECTING TROLL TO PAIL YOU, NOR WILL I FULFILL ANY NON-CONCUPISCENT QUADRANTS WITH YOU NOR COOPERATE IN ANY PLANS TO COERCE ANYONE ELSE ELSE TO DO THE SAME.  
CG: IN FACT, LET'S JUST PUT THIS OUT ON THE TABLE WHERE WE CAN BOTH SEE IT: I AM DONE WITH YOUR QUADRANTS, ERIDAN AMPORA. I'D RATHER YOUR QUADRANTS AND I OCCUPY SEPARATE CULTURAL CONSTRUCTS OF ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS BUT FAILING THAT I WILL TAKE THE NEXT BEST OPTION, THAT BEING: I WILL HAVE NOTHING AND I REFUCKINGPEAT I WILL HAVE NOTHING, NOT A SINGLE SOLIFUCKINGTARY THING TO DO WITH YOUR QUADRANTS.  
CG: ARE WE UNDERSTOOD?  
CA: it aint that kar  
CA: its somethin else  
CG: OH.  
CG: WELL.  
CG: YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION, THEN.  
CG: WHAT'S UP, DUDE?  
CA: you got humans right  
CG: YES? TWO OF THEM. YOU'VE MET THEM. YOU BOUGHT SWEETENER-ENHANCED FROZEN BUTLERCREAM FOR ROXY.  
CA: oh yeah  
CA: forgot that  
CA: shes a swweetheart  
CA: good eye for fashion  
CG: SHE LIKES SCARVES.  
CA: thats wwhat i said  
CG: WAS THAT A SELF-DEPRECATING JOKE? HOLY SHIT, THIS IS SERIOUS.  
CA: okay look kar  
CA: ill levvel wwith you  
CA: you knoww i livve wwith my hatchmate right  
CA: cronus  
CG: AS MUCH AS I'D LIKE TO DENY ANY AND ALL MEMORY OF CRONUS, I KEEP FUCKING REMEMBERING. WHAT ABOUT HIM?  
CG: OH.  
CG: OH, SHIT.  
CG: ERIDAN.  
CG: DID CRONUS BRING HOME A FUCKING BABY?  
CA: is that wwhat theyre called  
CA: i guess so then  
CA: human wwiggler anywway  
CA: twwo, three swweeps maybe  
CA: his names davve  
CG: DAVE?  
CA: thats wwhat i said  
CG: JUST CHECKING.  
CG: SHIT.  
CG: WHERE'D HE EVEN FIND ONE?  
CA: by a wwaste disposal unit  
CA: hes real skinny kar  
CA: too skinny  
CA: and wweak  
CA: wwe gavve him a bath an some soap got in his eyes an he didn't evven cry or anythin  
CA: and theyre red  
CA: his eyes i mean  
CA: like kankris  
CA: wwhat do wwe do wwith him kar  
CA: help us out here  
CG: YOU'RE DOING OKAY SO FAR. GETTING HIM CLEAN WAS A GOOD FIRST STEP. CONTACTING ME WAS AN EXCELLENT SECOND STEP.  
CG: THIRD, YOU NEED TO GET HIM WARM AND DRY, THOUGH I HOPE TO FUCKING GOG YOU'VE DONE THAT ALREADY AND HE ISN'T JUST SITTING AROUND SOPPING WET FROM THE BATH. HUMANS ARE NOT A MARINE SPECIES.  
CA: wwe knoww that much  
CG: THERE'S NO ASSUMING WITH THIS SHIT. NOW HUSH AND ABSORB MY WISDOM.  
CG: FOURTH, FOOD. HAS HE EATEN ANYTHING? THE INTERNET CAN TELL YOU WHAT'S THE BEST FOOD FOR HIS AGE GROUP.  
CG: HE'LL ALSO NEED FLUIDS. IF HE'S BEEN OUT THERE ANY TIME AT ALL HE'LL BE DEHYDRATED AS ALL HELL. FRESH WATER, LOTS OF IT.  
CG: FIFTH, NO SOPOR.  
CG: IT DOESN'T AGREE WITH THEM, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE THAT YOUNG. THE EFFECT IS STRONGER ON HUMANS THAN ON TROLLS, PROBABLY BECAUSE THEY HAVE THINNER SKIN. THEY END UP STONED. YOU DO NOT WANT A STONED BABY ON YOUR HANDS. JUST PUT HIM ON YOUR CUSHIONED MULTISEAT UNIT OR SOMETHING FOR NOW BUT HE'LL NEED A HUMAN RESPITE PLATFORM. THEY LIKE SOFT THINGS TO SLEEP ON.  
CG: ARE YOU GETTING ALL OF THIS?  
CA: yeah i got you  
CA: howw about the vvet  
CG: THAT'S THING SIX. GET HIM IN TO SEE ONE ASAP. FIRST THING AFTER YOU FEED HIM, TOMORROW, YOUR FINNED ASS HAD BETTER BE IN A GOGDAMN WAITING ROOM SEATING UNIT WITH A BUNDLE OF HUMAN JOY SNUGGLED UP IN YOUR LAP. IF YOUR ASS IS NOT IN SUCH A VETERINARY OFFICE AT SUCH TIME I WILL KICK IT. HARD. UNDERSTOOD?  
CA: that wwas a lot less graphic than your usual threats  
CA: somehoww that makes it scarier  
CG: AM I UNDERSTOOD?  
CA: dry and wwarm, food, wwater, soft place to sleep, vvet  
CA: got it  
CG: PUT VET IN ALL CAPS SO YOU HAVE TO READ IT IN MY VOICE  
CG: AND FEAR.  
CA: VVET  
CA: howws that  
CG: PERFECT.  
CG: OKAY, GOT TO GO. I HAVE SHIT TO DO BUT I'LL HAVE MY PALMHUSK ON ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING ELSE.  
CA: i think wwere good for noww  
CA: thanks kar  
CA: say  
CG: WHAT?  
CA: wwhat do you say to meetin up once my humes better  
CA: havin a playdate or somesuch  
CA: humes can play and we can  
CG: ERIDAN.  
CA: wwhat  
CG: ROXY AND DIRK ARE SEVEN SWEEPS OLD.  
CA: so  
CG: THEY'RE A LITTLE OLD TO PLAY WITH HUMAN WIGGLERS.  
CG: AND TRY TO REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOUT ME AND YOUR QUADRANTS.  
CA: couldnt hurt to ask  
CG: GOODBYE ERIDAN.  
CA: bye kar thanks again  
CG: YOU'RE WELCOME.

 

Sollux is asleep when Karkat wanders into his respite block. Not surprising – it's only mid-evening, and he'd been up late on a coding bender. That he's sleeping means this was a normal bender and not the first rumblings of a serious Episode. Those have been rarer in the sweep since Karkat and Dirk moved in. Having someone around to cook actual food and make sure the water glass beside his psych meds is always full helps; not having to take care of Roxy, plus his seriously damaged hatchmate, all on his own, helps more. Letting Mituna move in when Karkat and Sollux decided to find their own place is one of the very few things Kurloz Makara has ever deserved thanks for. He sure as shit never did Gamzee any favors.

Karkat shakes off thoughts of Gamzee (he's fine, Tavros has him, Tavros is good for him, he's _fine_ and Karkat can stop feeling guilty for dumping him any time) and heads to the recuperacoon for quick look inside. Yeah, there's Roxy, snuggled small and doll-like against Sollux's narrow chest, his implausibly nimble hands holding her like a favored comfort plush. The sopor turns her pale hair sickly neon but the little half-smile that turns up her mouth between snores makes Karkat's own lips twitch, even as he worries.

Humans aren't really supposed to do sopor. Sollux has always known that, but Sollux has not always been in the best mental state to enforce the rule. Even if he had, Roxy's been with him since she was a grub, back before Mituna's accident, and she's one of the only creatures living who can reliably circumvent a Captor.

Roxy snorts in her sleep and Karkat lets himself smile as he steps away from the cocoon without waking them. There's nothing he needs here, and it's Eridan's fault he's worrying at all. Roxy has never been curled up behind a dumpster and she never will be, not without Sollux or Karkat right there beside her.

He checks his phone. There's been no chime but – no, nothing. Eridan has managed ten minutes without a crisis. Good for him.

With a final fond glance at the cocoon, Karkat leaves Sollux's block.

 

Karkat stops by Dirk's block on his way downstairs and pokes his head through the half-open door. It's usually open when he's not doing anything particularly hazardous. Dirk is busy, as ever, hunched over his work station with a pile of metal and circuitry illuminated by a flexible lamp that makes Karkat's eyes ache. He has a couple of very small tools in hand, and a pair of really stupid-looking goggles on his face, in place of the marginally less stupid (but still pretty fucking stupid) pointy tinted ocular shields that are his habit. Karkat watches until a sudden fizzle of sparks explains the swap.

“Hey,” he calls, softly keep from startling him, though he knows the odds of anything startling Dirk are pretty fucking slim.

After a few seconds, when Karkat is debating between calling again of leaving it for later, Dirk puts down his tools, slips off the goggles and retrieves the ocular shields from his sylladex. These in place, he spins on his stool to face the door.

“What happened?” he asks.

Karkat doesn't ask why he can't just be checking in on his human; they've had that exchange before, more than once. Dirk is so fucking infuriating that if he weren't human – and, more to the point, if he weren't the human Karkat has raised almost from grubhood – babyhood – whatever – he might've waxed black for him.

“Eridan,” he says. “You remember that fishfucker, right?”

“The Ampora with the cape,” Dirk confirms. “As opposed to the Ampora with the pompadour. Have you at last given into his pleas to enter into a quadrant with him? If so, which one? As I recall he was equally interested in all of them.”

“Fuck you for saying that,” Karkat says, “then fuck you again for saying it with a straight face. No, just by the way. Ampora actually managed to pester me with only the most cursory of romantic solicitations. You should be asking where to send the congratulations, asswipe.”

“Shit, where's Gamzee?” Dirk asks. “Miracles are his department.”

“That – was my reaction, pretty much exactly,” Karkat admits. He glances at his huskshell screen and feels his mouth attempting to quirk at one corner as he again reads Eridan's half-hearted parting woo. Half-hearted and probably the most successful woo he's pitched since Feferi dumped him, given Karkat intends to take him up on it.

Platonically.

“How do you feel about babies?” he asks.

“Human babies?”

“Did I fucking say wigglers?”

“Five,” Dirk observes. Karkat ignores him. This is one of his newer, and more irritating habits: counting how many sentences Karkat can go without cursing. He also counts serial 'fuck's in more impassioned rants.

“Babies,” he says. “Opinion, fuckface. Ampora Prime picked one up off the street and Eridan's asking for sage advice on caring for the fucking thing. He has also suggested, I quote, 'play dates', with emphasis on _date_. I told him that you and Roxy are a little too old to have much interest in squalling excrement factories but it could be funny.”

“How old?” Dirk asks, rather than just shooting the idea down, which is kind of interesting.

“Two or three sweeps,” Karkat answers, skimming the conversation again. “Male. Blond. Red eyes, how the fuck – oh, human.”

One of Dirk's eyebrows has become visible over his ocular shields.

“Fuck you,” Karkat says. “Interested in playing with the vomiting turd generator while Eridan puts terrible moves on your loving _custodian_?”

Probably a low blow to bring up Kankri, right now, but Dirk doesn't look fazed. Dirk never looks fazed but Karkat's pretty sure he's actually not, this time.

“Cronus picked him up?” he says, instead of answering. “The less objectionable Ampora? I wouldn't have thought him capable of that level of empathy for his fellow creatures.”

“How is Cronus _less_ objectionable? Wasn't he more objectionable last time?”

“On reflection,” Dirk says, “I've decided that sexually harassing every troll he comes across is less upsetting than pursuing fated, lifelong romance with the same. It's still upsetting, mind, but at least an overactive libido is actually a thing. Unlike whatever's wrong with Eridan.”

Karkat might have refused to dignify this with a response, but –

“How have you given this much fucking thought to the Amporas?” he asks. “How has anyone given this much fucking thought to the Amporas? _Why_ would anyone give this much motherfucking thought to the motherfucking Amporas? You're supposed to be the rational one, here, as you're constantly reminding me, both explicitly and implicitly, what with me being _frequently hysterical_ , which you also remind me, and yet I can't see how it's in the least rational to think this deeply about those grubfuckers when both mental health and digestive integrity would seem to require one refrain from thinking about it at fucking all insofuckingfar as it is fucking possible.”

“Nine,” Dirk says quietly.

“And yes,” Karkat adds, a little more calm because he has to be, for this part. “Cronus picked him up off the street. He was – behind a dumpster. When he found him.”

Dirk doesn't look fazed. This time it's a lie. He doesn't say anything; just turns back to his table.

Karkat gnaws on his lip.

“He's been picked up,” he says, after a moment. “He's not – there – anymore. Cronus and Eridan are kind of awful, but they're not completely incompetent. Eridan wasn't too proud or too stupid to call me for help.”

“Which he needed,” Dirk replies, and takes whatever he was working on in both gloved hands. “Because someone else.” He carries it to an unfinished robot several feet away. “Threw a child.” He opens a panel and begins fitting the piece inside. “Out into the street.” He slams the panel shut. “Alone.”

Karkat bites his lip again; closes his eyes; opens them.

“He's not alone anymore,” he says at last.

Dirk turns to look at him.

“He's not,” Karkat says. “Eridan's got him. We'll make sure he treats him right.”

Dirk nods a little at the 'we', dropped without thought on Karkat's part.

“We're people, you know,” he says, after a silence, attention on his robot again.

Karkat nods.

“I'd noticed that, yeah.”

Dirk pauses, then goes to his table for another tool.

“I mean we're not animals,” he says. “Unless you are, too. We're not woofbeasts or hoofbeasts; humans are sentient like trolls, have remarkably similar behavioral and developmental patterns, and our average intelligence levels are fucking identical. We lack psionic and psychic shit and are less prone to fits of wanton violence. Our species are equal, dude.”

Karkat is rubbing his eyes to keep from rubbing his chest. This conversation always makes his bloodpusher hurt.

“I know that,” he says.

“It's gross as hell you guys keep us as pets.”

“I fucking know that, too.”

“And yet you still don't seem inclined to do jack shit about it.”

“Dirk,” Karkat says, the way he says it every time. “It's not that simple. You know it's not that simple. Trolls don't even have full equality. Do I need to remind you why Kankri and I are living off the government rather than being allowed to fucking contribute anything? Or have you forgotten we're talking about a race ruled by its gogdamn blood color?”

“You always bring up that hemospectrum hoofbeastshit. I fail to see how it's relevant.”

“And I fail to see why you always insist on being purposefully fucking obtuse. Okay, here, just how the fuck far do you think a human liberation movement is likely to progress in a society that still thinks two thirds of its own dominant fucking species are too panaddled to wipe their own asses without the supervision of the elite?”

“I have no idea,” Dirk tells him. “Neither do you. Considering you consistently refuse to fucking try. Nobody will fucking try.”

“Dirk.” Karkat doesn't say anything else; he has nothing else to say. Just the name. Not enough letters – where do humans get these names, anyway? – implausible dearth of syllables but acceptable for all that. Serviceable. Beloved, even, in its way. Important.

This is the one thing Dirk can't do himself. Karkat can't do it either and it fucking kills him. Every time.

“Dirk,” he says again. And, then, “His name's Dave. The Ampora kid. You don't know many other humans. I know he's just – small. But what do you think?”

“Six, so far,” Dirk says. “Name a time. Have you asked Roxy?”

“She and Sollux are sleeping off a coding trance. Fuck if I'm interrupting that. She'll be all over it.”

“Seven. Yeah, she will. Ask anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You aren't afraid I'll be a seditious influence on the littlest Ampora?”

“Out of all the genetic codes on this candy-coated shit heap of a planet,” Karkat tells him, “the Amporas need a little sedition in them like no fucking other.”

Dirk slams shut another panel on his robot.

“Mission accepted,” he says. “Gotta boot this dude up. Shut the door on your way out?”

So dismissed, Karkat goes. He shuts the door on his way out. He doesn't say 'be careful'; doesn't say 'don't get blown up'; doesn't say 'don't fucking destroy the hive, please'; doesn't say anything. Dirk is careful. Dirk knows already. Respect for his intelligence is the only apology Karkat can offer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

Karkat had gone to live with his older hatchmate, as a lot of trolls did at eight sweeps, and found Kankri as insufferable as he'd been in their sporadic meetings and visits for as long as Kankri had been independent, with a major new point in the douche column. That point was Dirk. Kankri had adopted the then three-sweep-old during his Humane Treatment of Animals phase and never spoken of him again after the first five or six perigees. During the sweep that followed, Karkat would have figured Kankri'd gotten rid of him, had it occurred to him to think about it at all. It came as a genuine shock to find another living creature in the hive when he moved in.

Kankri was surprised at Karkat's surprise.

“Of course I couldn't just give him away, Karkat. Custodianship of a companion animal, especially so sensitive a variety as a human, is a serious responsibility to be taken seriously and not entered into without a great deal of research and forethought. Had I been in any way ill-equipped to deal with the rigors of custodianship those deficiencies would certainly have come to light during the preadoption period of introspection, not after I had already rearranged my life to care for – ”

“That's not what I meant.” It had taken time to cultivate a tone that cut through Kankri's verbal armor but Karkat had managed. Verbal armor was his specialty. “I just meant you haven't even mentioned him in, like, a sweep--which is a little weird when we're talking about something that lives in your fucking hive with you.”

“I see,” Kankri said, with that little nod that meant he didn't see a damned thing but the inside of his own waste chute. “You are concerned that my human companion and his necessary care might have been disruptive to my work and I might have been obligated to part with him for good of my scholarship. While your concern is both laudable and well-founded, you'll be unsurprised, I hope, to the learn that the possibility of some distraction occurred to me during my aforementioned introspective process and I have found myself to be, as suspected, more than equal to balancing the time and care required for my human companion with the demands of – ”

Karkat had been splitting his straining attention between searching Kankri's speech for a grain of actual information and examining the 'human companion' sitting on the recreation block floor. The battle for his focus ended, and he tuned Kankri out completely, when the human shoved his weird, pointed ocular shields up to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. It was a familiar look; Karkat's moirail got that look.

Ignoring Kankri, Karkat swallowed his irritation and edged over to the human. He vaguely recalled the kid's age and held back a wince at the thought of a four-sweep-old dealing with Sollux-esque headstorms while trapped in a hive with Kankri. Poor kid.

Karkat crouched down in front of the human and, with an effort, kept his voice soft as he spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the older troll's continuing monologue.

“Hi,” he said. “I'm Karkat.”

The kid removed his hand from his face and adjusted his ocular shields. Karkat caught a glimpse of vivid orange.

“I'm Dirk.” The human offered his hand and Karkat shook it, amused. “He said you were coming. Didn't mention your name.”

“Didn't mention yours, either.” Kankri had stopped talking and Karkat's voice dropped in proportion to the lowered ambient volume. “Got a headache?”

He noticed a wrinkle appearing at the bridge of Dirk's nose, just visible at the nose piece of his ocular shields.

“Yeah,” he said.

Suspecting – correctly, it turned out – that Dirk didn't have his own, Karkat said, “You want to come lie down in my block? I can get together enough cushions and insulated fabric squares to make a pile for you to sleep on.”

Dirk hesitated and shook his head. There was confusion in his face. Another uncharitable suspicion; Karkat asked where he usually slept.

“The floor,” Dirk told him. “I've got an insulated fabric square.”

He turned his head and Karkat followed his gaze to an orange fleece, neatly folded over the arm of the couch.

Suspicion confirmed. Kankri was exactly the sort of human guardian Sollux fucking loathed.

“Fuck that,” Karkat told him. “My moirail gets headaches like this. I can help you with it. Come on.”

Dirk looked mistrustful. But then his head turned. It moved so slightly that Karkat wouldn't have noticed if Kankri's reflection hadn't suddenly appeared in the human's ocular shields. He was scowling. For a moment Karkat wondered – but no. Kankri was a douche, but not that kind of douche. And that wasn't fear in Dirk's face, just resignation. Resignation, and then, so fleeting Karkat almost missed it, a smirk. Dirk looked back at Karkat.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

 

That was almost three sweeps ago, when Dirk was small enough to carry--and carry him, Karkat had. From to the vet, to the park, to the store, to playdates with Roxy and Jake, to all the places that Kankri, as his guardian, should have taken him but had, unfathomably, failed to. It was pretty clear, at first, that Dirk was sticking with Karkat primarily to piss Kankri off. Karkat didn't mind; that was a big part of his motivation, too. The other part was – what the fuck else was he supposed to do? There was a four-sweep-old human in his hive and the jackass who adopted him was under the impression that the 'care' part of 'care and feeding' could be satisfied by self-aggrandizing monologues. (As for the feeding part – well, Dirk was on the skinny side, but he wasn't starving. That was something.) If he hadn't done something to take care of Dirk, he'd have had to kick his own ass, which would then have been kicked again, by Sollux, who took human-care more seriously than he took anything, outside of coding. Sollux would probably have appreciated the dual nature of the ass-kickings.

On Karkat's second day in Kankri's hive, over a breakfast of fragile-shelled protein nodules (hard boiled for Dirk, scrambled for Karkat) and crispy-fried oinkbeast meat strips, he ascertained a few things about Dirk:

1) His capacity for spite was not the only thing that was highly developed: he was just all-around smart. Really smart. Probably smarter than Karkat. Definitely smarter than Kankri.

2) He was snarky as all fuck. It was cute then, both by virtue of Dirk's diminutive size and the newness of their acquaintance but with time and maturity it was going to get old. ( _Worry about it later,_ Karkat decided and proceeded to worry it to death.)

3) He had met other humans before. Mostly they were the adoptees of friends and fellow douches of Kankri's, including some of the life-long animal rights activists who had briefly accepted him into their fold. 

And

4) He hadn't actually liked any of them, with the possible exception of Jane, owned by the motherfucking Princess Meenah Peixes. (Karkat was more surprised by this than he ought to have been, considering he was sort-of friends with one of the Princesses himself. Besides, he had actually known that Kankri and Meenah grew up together. Maybe it was just that Meenah wasn't known for putting up with idiots, let alone getting to the 'introduce-the-humans' stage of friendship.) Apparently they hadn't met for long, but she'd seemed all right.

Karkat was a bit worried by this. According to Sollux, socialization with other humans was important for proper psychological development. It didn't sound like hoofbeastshit and imagining what it might have been like growing up isolated from his own species – Karkat wasn't sure how he'd have ended up. Angry, probably. Well, angrier.

This in mind, he filed away bothering Feferi about Jane as Plan B, and trolled Sollux.

CG: NOOKWIPE.  
CG: YOUR STATUS SAYS ACTIVE SO ANSWER YOUR GOGDAMNED MOIRAIL.  
CG: HE'S IN NEED.  
TA: ii'll only an2wer iif he 2tops referriing two hiim2elf iin the thiird per2on. fucka22.  
CG: FUCK YOU, TOO.  
CG: I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, I HAVE TO GO TO NITRAM'S.  
CG: IT'S ABOUT ROXY.  
TA: what about her?  
CG: SHE'S BUDDIES WITH WHATSHISSHIT, NEPETA'S HUMAN, RIGHT? DOES SHE HAVE ANY INTEREST IN MAKING NEW FRIENDS?  
TA: probably. ii can a2k.  
TA: kk. diid you adopt a human wiithout con2ultiing me? ii thought we were moiiraiil2. my feeliing2 are hurt.  
CG: FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR IMAGINARY FEELINGS, TOO, THEY ARE NOT. AND NO, I DIDN'T.  
CG: I MOVED IN WITH KANKRI.  
TA: and?  
CG: HE'S GOT ONE.  
TA: 2eriiou2ly? 2iince when?  
CG: A SWEEP AND A HALF, I GUESS. HIS NAME'S DIRK.  
TA: how old?  
CG: ABOUT ROXY'S AGE.  
CG: KANKRI'S BEEN NEGLECTING HIM, SORT OF. HE FEEDS HIM AND TALKS AT HIM, SOMETIMES, BUT MOSTLY THE POOR KID'S JUST BEEN SITTING AROUND THE HIVE FOR PERIGEES. HE SLEEPS ON THE FLOOR, HE HAS NO FRIENDS, AND HE HASN'T SEEN A VET SINCE KANKRI GOT HIM. HE DOESN'T SEEM SICK OR MALNOURISHED BUT I'M TAKING HIM TO SEE TAVROS JUST TO BE SAFE. IF YOU AND ROXY AREN'T BUSY I FIGURED WE COULD STOP BY YOURS AFTERWARD.  
TA: 2ure but back up. he'2 been 2iittiing around kankrii's hivive for a 2weep and a half and you diidn't know about hiim?  
CG: I SORT OF KNEW. SHITHEAD WENT THROUGH AN ANIMAL WELFARE PHASE.  
TA: okay, that make2 more 2en2e. what'2 dr been doiing all thii2 tiime? you can only read 2o many 2ociial ju2tiice treatii2e2.  
CG: I'LL TELL YOU WHEN I FIGURE THAT OUT.  
TA: okay. come by whenever. we'll be here.  
CG: SHOULD BE MIDNIGHT, PROVIDED NITRAM DOESN'T FIND ANYTHING WRONG WITH HIM. LATER, DUDE.  
TA: later, kk. 

What Dirk had been doing, aside from reading far more social justice treatises than they agreed could possibly be healthy – Karkat promised new books and Dirk almost fucking smiled – was drawing. They went to the former guest block – now Karkat's – and he dragged out a pile of notebooks from under the cocoon-side horizontal surface and, as he sorted through for one suitable for outsider consumption, Karkat realized he must draw a fucking _lot_. Once the chosen notebook was laid in his hands, he realized Dirk drew pretty fucking well, too. The notebooks looked like the hard-covered 'journals' Kankri hoarded like nutrition cylinders at the End Times. A proper sketchbook went on Karkat's shopping list before he even got the notebook open. Once he made it through a few pages, graph paper went on the list as well; there were crude blueprints in there, along with predictable but smirk-worthy comics of Kankri talking various trolls to death. He was young and definitely had a long way to go but Karkat could recognize Latula Pyrope and, worrying, Cronus Ampora. Actually, there was more than one Cronus in there, saying things between Kankri-logues that no four-sweep-old should be exposed to.

Karkat grimaced.

“Do me a favor,” he said, still paging through, “and tell me Cronus Ampora doesn't visit that often. Tell me it was just one time, with no possibility of a repeat appearance, and you've drawn him repeatedly because the horror of meeting him once was enough to stick in your thinkpan forever.”

He glanced up to find Dirk making a visible effort to remain impassive. It's pretty good. Karkat wondered if someone taught him to do that or if it was just a Kankri-defense technique. He recalled trying something similar himself, once, and being thwarted by his natural scowl.

“Ampora doesn't visit that often,” Dirk repeated, voice flat and dry as the desert plain. “He visited once, with no possibility of a repeat appearance, and I drew him repeatedly because the horror of meeting him has stuck in my thinkpan forever.” One eyebrow became visible over the rim of his ocular shields. “How was that?”

“Not even remotely convincing,” Karkat said. “One out of ten. Or maybe two. At least you got the fucking words right.”

Karkat closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Dirk, who tucked it away with the others. While this block was never Dirk's (did Kankri's Extensive Research not turn up evidence that humans needed their own space? That was difficult to imagine.) he'd clearly taken to stowing his things in there. Karkat wondered if Kankri's infinite generosity has extended to giving the notebooks to him, or if Dirk swiped them. He placed his bet on the latter.

They headed for the Nitram's clinic. That day of the week, it didn't usually open until midnight but Tavros had offered to come in early when Karkat trolled him. Dude kind of set Karkat's teeth on edge, sometimes, but he was hard as hell to really dislike.

Dirk had no visible reaction to being told where they're going; that was getting to be a theme with him.

“Do you know the Nitrams?” Karkat asked, still trying to pry free some information about his life to this point. “Rufioh or Tavros?”

“I met Rufioh,” Dirk said. “One of Meenah's parties. He has kickass horns.”

Karkat was momentarily self-conscious about his more modest headgear.

“That's the guy,” he confirmed. “It's a Nitram thing. So's being – nice.”

The word sounded strange, like it meant the opposite, and Dirk gave a huff that might have aspired to laughter.

“I remember that, too,” he said. “He called me 'doll'.”

Karkat grimaced. “He – does that.”

He thought Dirk looks ambivalent under all the blankness and added, “Not a Nitram thing. Just a Rufioh thing. Tavros's thing is being infuckingcapable of properly forming a complete sentence without several minutes advance planning. He's not as bad as he used to be but the poor fuckass still can't get out five fucking words without an 'uh'.”

“That's an improvement?”

“Used to be more like two.”

Another huff.

“I look forward to meeting him.”

 

Tavros was pleased with Dirk, once he understood the situation; Karkat was pleased with Tavros, for the extensive questions he asked, and with Dirk for answering. It gave him that much more information on what the fuck Kankri had been doing with this kid and what the fuck Dirk had been doing with himself.

Apparently Kankri's diet left something to be desired and he'd spent some time trying to feed Dirk that organic all-in-one human chow that smelled like compost, which Dirk had rejected until Kankri actually gave up talking and said he'd leave it out and, once Dirk was feeling less stubborn, he'd know where to find it.

Dirk had promptly dumped the lot in the waste disposal unit – which made Tavros smile – and started cooking for himself.

“I got lucky,” he said. “Trolls in our neighborhood are used to humans running errands for their – custodians. So I could go buy shit without too much attention.”

“Kankri gave you money for this?” Karkat asked.

“Sure. Once he realized Porrim was going to if he didn't.” There was a ghost of a smirk on his face and he seemed totally ease, sitting shirtless on the exam table. Like this, Karkat could see what he'd felt earlier – some of that slimness, at least, was strength. He must have kept pretty active.

Tavros was saying, “You must, uh, get some exercise. More than, I think, Kankri is likely to provide, being more, uh, cerebrally inclined.” Meaning Kankri was one of the most sedentary trolls any of them had ever fucking met. He barely left his damn hive. A faint blush rose in Tavros's cheeks.

“I like climbing things,” Dirk said. “Hey, Karkat. Can I have a sword?”

“Only if you want lessons in how to use it.”

Tavros looked pleased again. Dirk actually frowned, but nodded.

“Tell me about your diet,” Tavros said. “Now, I mean, what it's like.”

Dirk's diet now was trollish, too much protein and not enough carbs, which he impassively promised to correct.

“I'll correct it,” Karkat said, both because he didn't trust that impassive look and because, “You're, what, four sweeps? How do you even reach the nutrition prep surfaces?”

“I have a stepped climbing apparatus.”

Karkat rubbed his face.

“You have a stepped climbing apparatus,” he said. “Okay, no, I refuse. I refuse to – We are not fighting over this. If you actually like to cook, cook, by all means, but otherwise, just let me do it as I actually do enjoy cooking and am apparently taking over as your keeper.”

“That's not necessary,” Dirk said.

“Hoofbeastshit.”

“I don't need a keeper. I can take care of myself.”

Tavros spoke again, gently, before Karkat could snap at him.

“That doesn't mean, that you should, uh, have to take care of yourself. And Karkat is right, even if he is, uh, indelicate, in expressing it. You'll need a responsible troll, to ensure you have necessary, uh, vet visits, and socialization, and so forth.”

“And to tell the vet about your revolting orange soda addiction,” Karkat added. “Which is stupid and also revolting. Tavros, back me up. Orange soda does not go on peanut-infused crunchy corn puffs.”

Tavros made a disgusted face.

“There is, uh, no medical necessity to separate, those two things,” he said. “But it is better, I think, if you maybe limit your, um, intake of soda. It has, negative nutritional value, and is gross.”

“Listen to the nice vet,” Karkat said to Dirk, who looked put out. “He's an expert in gross soda addictions. His matesprit is one of the worst cases you've ever seen.”

Tavros was blushing again. He twisted up his face in what might've wished to be a scowl and said, “Which, reminds me, Karkat. Tell your, uh, moirail, to stop ignoring my, professional trolls. It's, uh, a problem, and also childish.”

Karkat snorted. He couldn't ask what was up with Roxy – she wasn't his human and it wasn't Dirk's business – but he could guess.

“We're going by to see him after this,” he said. “I'll harass him about it.”

“That's not, necessary, but, uh, thank you? Just a reminder, is all that's needed.”

**In the present:**

To the surprise of no one but Cronus and Eridan, who promptly panic, Dave is sick. He was, as Dave himself points out, 'outside for a long time. It was cold. And dirty.' He neglects to mention the ragged clothing they found him in, which hadn't originally been made to survive the elements anyway, but his point is a good one. By morning he's sneezing and hacking something fierce, eyes redder against pink rims, skin fever-flushed. Cronus, who's always been more paranoid about illness, absconds to buy clothes and general human-care supplies (troll soap, among other things, is not meant for softer human skin) while Eridan heads for the Nitrams' place. He trolls Karkat on the way.

CA: kar  
CA: kar  
CA: hes sick kar  
CA: hes actually fuckin sick  
CA: hes hackin all over the place  
CA: an all pink an glassy-eyed  
CA: davve is sick kar  
CA: howw the fuck do i deal wwith this  
CG: TAKE HIM TO THE FUCKING VET AMPORA, JEGUS SHIT.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU LAST NIGHT?  
CA: i knoww wwhat you told me  
CA: an wwere goin  
CA: but  
CA: i wwas thinkin just a check up  
CA: but hes actually sick  
CA: wwhat if he dies or somethin  
CA: he sounds real bad kar i don't knoww if i can handle this  
CG: STEP ONE IS STOP BOTHERING ME AND PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR HUMAN CHILD.  
CG: WHO IS NOT GOING TO FUCKING DIE, YOU'RE RIDICULOUS.  
CG: HE'S BEEN LIVING ON THE STREET, OF COURSE HE'S SICK.  
CA: thats just wwhat he said  
CG: AT LEAST SOMEBODY OVER THERE HAS A FUNCTIONING THINKPAN. TELL DAVE HE HAS MY CONGRATULATIONS AS THE MOST INTELLIGENT RESIDENT OF THE AMPORA HIVE.  
CA: yeah yeah fuck you too  
CA: wwhats step twwo  
CG: WHAT?  
CA: you said step one stop buggin you wwhat about after that  
CG: STEP TWO, EMBRACE YOUR NEW CALLING IN LIFE. YOU'RE A LUSUS, NOW.  
CG: CONGRATULATIONS, AMPORA. IT'S A BOY. MAZEL TOV.  
CA: wwhat the fuck does that mean  
CG: FUCK IF I KNOW, ASK DIRK. HE WANTED ME TO PASS IT ON.  
CA: not that  
CA: wwhat do you mean im a lusus now davve aint a troll  
CG: LOOK, AMPORA, I AM TOO TIRED AND YOU ARE TOO RESISTANT TO NEW IDEAS FOR US TO GET INTO THIS CONVERSATION RIGHT NOW. FUCK OFF AND TAKE CARE OF YOUR KID.  
CA: kar  
CG: GOODBYE, ERIDAN.  
CA: kar

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has blocked caligulasAquarium [CA]

Meeting with the Nitrams – either of the Nitrams – was always an awkward experience for Eridan, as he had, in the past, so often done so in the company of Cronus, who inevitably fell all over himself hitting on Rufioh until every hearing creature in earshot was humiliated on his behalf and Eridan was rendered incapable of putting any moves at all on Tavros, lest the memory of the elder Ampora arise and mortify everyone anew.

That is a shame because, hemostatus be damned, Tav is a fuckin' cutie.

Dave seems to agree – or at least find Tavros non-objectionable. He is slouched in Eridan's lap on the uncomfortable exam block seating unit, held steady by hands on his narrow sides, when Tavros comes in, and gives the vet a blank-faced once over. His expression doesn't actually change during introductions but he lifts his hands in a half-reach when Tavros moves to lift him. He hadn't done that for Cronus and it's stupidly comforting to see him actually react to something.

“Uh, hey, little dude,” Tavros says to him and cradles Dave to his chest for the two steps over to the exam table. “You're feeling, sick? That's, uh, a bummer, I guess. But we'll, make you feel better and Eridan is, uh, going to keep you safe, okay?”

He's set Dave down on the table at this point and looks him in the small, wan face with just about the sweetest smile Eridan's ever seen. For an instant, he really, really wants to hit on him, or hold his hand or something. But then Dave gives a little cough, clears his throat, and answers Tavros: “'Kay.” And Eridan thinks that if Tav can clear the congestion out of that soft voice, that might be better than holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented/kudoed/bookmarked/took the time to look at the first chapter. I forgot to add notes to it because I'm a dumbass so, slightly belated:
> 
> Thanks also to the marvelous thenameofaction, without whom this would suck more, and to my lovely sister, snarp, who probably thinks it still sucks but helped out because she's stand up like that.
> 
> As someone in the comments correctly deduced, this work is heavily influenced/inspired by coldhope/ceruleancynic's Unwanted Free Ugly Troll, so thanks to her, too. She is delightful and an excellent writer and if you have not read UFUT yet, go forth and do so.
> 
> I'm going to try to update fairly regularly -- I have this thing fully planned and more than half written -- but I have a pretty heavy work schedule so we'll see how it works out. Thanks for reading. You're the best. <3


	3. Chapter 3

After the first nerve-wracking day or two, when Dave is an enigma and sick as hell besides, having a human is pretty okay. Cronus is less useless than Eridan had feared – he still can't cook for shit but he actually pays attention to the gogdamn grocery list with a third mouth to feed and he lays off his shitty guitar playing when the kid's asleep. He leaves the medication to Eridan, which is all to the good – if they'd tried to team work it the kid would have ended up with doubled doses or none at all.

The night of the vet visit he bolts, muttering about 'supplies' and Eridan is skeptical but too focused on the shivering lump of human curled on their cushioned multiperson seating unit to object. Dave is sweating as he shakes, face set in grim determination, and Eridan's bloodpusher aches at the wariness in Dave's eyes when he checks his temperature or offers tea with honey.

“It'll make you feel better,” he says as Dave eyes the mug. “Highblood honor.” It takes further coaxing to get him to curl up with Eridan. Feeling sick must have brought out his defensiveness because he sure didn't mind cuddles last night.

“It'll help with your temperature,” he tells his charge. “I got a lower body temperature than you.”

“The vet said use cool water,” Dave says. “Why aren't you doing that?”

“No sense gettin all wet when you got a perfectly good heat sink right here.” It's a little weird to feel like the voice of reason in a conversation. “A course if you're that eager to get naked an' sponged down, the ablution block it is. Otherwise, c'mere. We gotta get that fever under control.”

The calculation takes a little time, visible only in those improbable eyes, but stripping down doesn't seem to appeal and Dave at last consents to be held. He sits in Eridan's lap, curled into a tight ball, and it's a long while before he relaxes into Eridan's gentle hold. And fuck alive is he ever warm – almost hot – to the touch. Poor little grub, and the coughing fits he's failing to hold back are tightening the vice around Eridan's bloodpusher.

The coughing exhausts him and he dozes off, but wakes now and again with a flail and a squeak that soon degenerates into a hacking fit. Eridan focuses all his attention on soothing the latter, unwilling to wonder, then, just what Dave was used to waking up to. Between the meds and the honeyed tea, his sleep finally eases into something less fraught. His body doesn't seem quite so warm and he's heavy against Eridan, head against his chest, little arms still curled around himself. Pale eyelashes catch the light against his pink cheek. Once he seems down for the count, Eridan considers, for all of two seconds, moving him to lie on the seating unit.

Instead, he reaches behind himself for the petite horizonal surface at the end of the seating unit, picks up the nearest book, and settles in to wait for Cronus. He doesn't want to wake the little guy before he has to, after all.

 

When Cronus does get back, he takes one look at Eridan and Dave and snaps a photo with his palmhusk, grinning with all his teeth. Eridan can't curse like he wants to without waking Dave so he just flips his hatchmate off and goes back to his book. It might have been Karkat's, once, but fuck if Eridan's ever giving it back. He's read it three or four times in the past couple of perigees and it never gets less perfect. Over the mental noise of a whole household falling pitch for its lord's new matesprit and the lord going red for his new housemaid, he can hear Cronus bringing in whatever shit he saw it necessary to buy. There seems to be a lot of it, so the wealthy lowblood, Susara, is at last accepting the flushed advances of the lord's highblood moirail (and Eridan is maybe tearing up a little) by the time Cronus has finished. He focuses very hard on moving Dave without waking him then goes to inspect the the 'supplies'.

It's not a bad haul. There's clothes, of course, mostly purple – which Eridan nods over – in a variety of small sizes; the promised ablution products; and a little inflatable respite platform Cronus suggests setting up in Eridan's block.

“It ain't for permanent,” Cronus says. “But seeing as he ain't well an' all an' you know I ain't great with germs – ”

“We'll take him to pick out a real one,” Eridan interrupts. “Once he's feelin' better an' less skittish.”

Cronus beams.

“You go set that shit up,” Eridan says. “Lemme see what else you got.”

Cronus goes without complaint, humming a Troll Beatles song along the way.

_Baby's good to me, you know. . ._

Eridan shakes his head. Cronus is infecting his brain with that shit.

He's picked up bedding, too, small sheets, a head cushion, and a little red quilt; he'll be back for that. On the toy front, which Eridan hadn't even considered, are crayons and coloring books, a set of construction cubes and a plush seahorse. Everything looks pretty gender neutral, so Eridan figures if Cronus is in his head, Kankri's in Cronus's, which makes him think he got the better end of the bargain. They are nice toys, though. Good quality. See which one Dave takes to, first, then maybe get some more, or let him pick his own. 

He also got one of those kiddie palmhusks, which, what'll he even need that for, he's like three and also not a troll. It's not like they're gonna let him go wandering on his own and who the fuck does Cronus think he'll need to call?

Shoes, a couple of sizes, pajamas and – Well. He must've stopped by the nutrition depot. Makes sense, of course, that he would, but the sight of salted crackers and fizzy citrus soda brings a lump to Eridan's throat that he can't pretend he doesn't understand. He just – wouldn't have thought Cronus remembered.

For all Cronus is 'bad with germs' he'd sure as hell tried, back when Eridan was maybe six sweeps and sick as hell on a weekend visit to his hatchmate. It had come on suddenly, after he arrived, and he'd gone from upright and coherent to a shuddering mass of delirium and inflamed gills in a couple of hours. After puking himself inside out, the crackers and soda – a solution ganked from some hurried Troogling, he thought – had been all he could hold down. That and – there's Jell-O, too, red flavor for Dave, and Eridan feels himself flush as a tear comes to his eye. He can remember sitting in the crook of Cronus's arm, too sick and shaky with hunger to even hold his own spoon, being fed bright purple gelatin and how he'd felt less empty, less alone, and so cared for.

Cronus.

This is a different sickness, of course. Eridan was puking up organs. Dave's just congested and feverish. But taking it easy on the little guy's stomach isn't a bad idea. All that sinus drainage has got to go somewhere. He grimaces at the thought but when Cronus ambles back in, still humming – _I'm so flushed for her and I feel fine_ – Eridan offers a genuine smile over the groceries and Cronus, purple in the fins, smiles back.

 

Back on the couch with Dave (Eridan might be rereading the bit was Susara – she's so brave and unsure and so _sensible_ , not remotely the kind of troll he'd normally go for but he's kind of flushed for her himself) Eridan looks up to find Cronus watching him and Dave with an expression best classified as 'fond'. He is unfamiliar with this particular look and snaps out, “What?”

Cronus looks fonder and says, “Nothin'. How's the kid?”

Having expected more avoidance than concern, despite the sentimental digression over the crackers, Eridan looks down at his lapful then sighs and puts the book aside.

“Still sick, if that's what you're askin'. Been sleepin' since noon 'cept to hack up certain vital organs. The stuff Tav gave us helped but he ain't a well hume.”

“Any fever?” Cronus leans in to brush his fingers through Dave's hair, down his cheek, careful of his claws.

“Fuck, I dunno. He had one at the office but I ain't checked an' all these landies feel the same to me.” He lays a hand against the side of Dave's face and considers. “Not as warm as he was, though, which is a fuckin' relief.”

“We oughta check it when he wakes up. What's their normal?”

“Tav told me it was ninety-eight or somethin'.”

Eridan smiles at his hatchmates scrunched-up face.

“That was my own reaction,” he says. “But, yeah. Humes run hotter than any troll. Even rustbloods top out at ninety-three.”

“Tav tell you that?” Cronus asks. Then, without waiting for a response, “Fuckin' crazy. Wonder they don't burn up from the inside. Oh, I swapped shifts goin' forward, days you're workin', so I can be here an watch the kid. There's still an hour's overlap for us but I figure between us we gotta be able to round up a sitter or two.”

Eridan blinks, surprised again, but picks up the thread.

“I'll ask Kar to take a day or two. But no Kankri, all right?”

Cronus actually laughs.

“There were reasons Dirk ended up with Karkat,” he says. “Kankri ain't so good with kids. How about Aranea? I hear she's missin' John since Vris moved out.”

“That is the most sensible fuckin' thing you've said in perigees.”

“Hey, fuck you, Eri.”

“Fuck you, too.”

But they're both smiling, again, so that's alright.

 

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

 

It started with the headache, of course, started with the not-smirk on Dirk's face when Kankri stopped talking and just watched. Normal troll behavior would dictate one stop talking when everyone else in the room was otherwise engaged but Kankri wasn't a normal troll, never had been – he should've kept talking. But he watched instead.

He watched and the reflection in Dirk's ocular shields fucking scowled when Dirk agreed to be looked after.

He scowled again when he emerged from his block at mid-morning to find Karkat on his way out the door with Dirk in his arms and, yeah, this was going to become a thing.

“Karkat,” he said, “you must forgive my intrusion but I feel you must be aware that as Dirk's custodian I have supreme interest in his comings and goings and while I don't wish to interfere with whatever bond you may be attempting to form with him, your present behavior is problematic and potentially triggering for a number of – ”

There was a question in there and Karkat knew Kankri well enough to root it out. He thought he did, anyway. He didn't know him well enough to predict the Troll Hugh Hefner dressing gown, and that drove thoughts of actual communication straight out of his think pan.

“The fuck are you wearing?” he asked, when Kankri inhaled.

Kankri blinked down at himself, derailed.

“A gift,” he said. “Cronus Ampora gave it to me for my last wriggling day. While I admit the style is somewhat ostentatious and I would certainly not wear it publicly, as he seemed to suggest, lest it be found triggering by those of lower socioeconomic status, it's of excellent quality and I rather like the color. Is there some problem with it?”

Karkat did not think about Cronus Ampora giving Kankri lingerie. He didn't. Dirk's head rested heavy against his shoulder and he thought about that, instead. Right, Dirk.

“No,” he said. “No problem. You're right, great color. We'll just be going, now.”

He turned for the entry portal.

“Karkat. _Karkat_.” And, glory be, he got straight to the point. “What are you doing with my human?”

“Vet visit,” Karkat said over his shoulder. “Maybe it had escaped your notice, what with your _scholarship_ and all, but he gets those fucking awful headstorms every ten nights or so and that is not a normal state of affairs for humans. I trolled Nitram about it, so we're going in. You're welcome, nookstain.”

There was the scowl again.

“Leaving aside, for a moment, the intensely triggering nature of your language, which we have discussed before, though I'll of course be happy to reprise my points and explicate further on their significance if you found any part of my ser – our discussions unclear – and which is made doubly troubling by your willingness to use such language in front of so young an example of such an impressionable species as little Dirk here – which we will be discussing later, I assure you, I have notes on the subject which I'm sure will clarify exactly how triggering profanity can be to humans – I feel I must point out that as Dirk's custodian, his medical, psychological and emotional needs are my responsibility and while I appreciate your concerns for his welfare and willingness to assist me in the burden of his care, any efforts to relieve that burden ought really be addressed to me first. You see, Karkat, while I am exceptionally busy with my studies, the rigors of – ”

Karkat always kind of wondered if Kankri was actually awake to hear himself talk. The way his eyes closed and his voice went kind of sing-songy after a certain point suggest otherwise. But how did he stay upright? Practice? How do you even develop that skill? And if he was putting himself to sleep with this hoofbeastshit, shouldn't he be talking about bizarre dreamscapes and eldritch abominations? Maybe that started after everyone had already tuned out? Or did he just dream in Social Justice (TM)?

These were the questions Karkat considered as he and Dirk slipped away. He closed the hive door in absolute silence and, after the minutest pause to ensure the monologue was still audible inside, they absconded.

 

**The present:**

 

If there's one good thing about Dave's illness it's this: no Kankri.

Generally he's over every other week, lecturing and failing to notice the unsubtle moves Cronus puts on him, but Vantas Major is an even bigger wuss about germs than Cronus and begs off when he hears about the kid. To the dismay of both Amporas, it's Eridan who's home to take that particular call and when Cronus gets back he's on the seating unit with Dave, nursing a headache and a cup of tea. Dave, the lucky grub, is sleeping.

“Kankri called,” Eridan tells Cronus when he steps into the recreation block. “He needs a raincheck on your date.”

The hope in Cronus's eyes makes Eridan regret that choice of words.

“He really say that?”

“No. But fuck if I'll repeat what he did say. It had a lot more words but the gist is he's scared a gettin' sick and ain't comin' over til the kid's better.”

Cronus frowns.

“How'd he even find out Davey's sick? I wasn't tellin' him on purpose.”

“Fuck if I know. Shit gets around in this town. Sorry, Cro, but you don't get to hit on Nubs Mcloudmouth, tonight.”

“That ain't a stone you're equipped to cast.” Cronus drops into one of the cushioned single seat units. “What with your nubby-horned bud you're all trollin' twenty times a night.”

“At least Karkat ain't fuckin' celibate,” Eridan shoots back. “He's available, until certain other Vantases a our acquaintance.”

“Kan'll give in one day.”

“Hoofbeastshit. I swear the only reason you hit on him at all is for practice. I can tell he's hopeless and hint-takin' ain't what you'd call my crownin' virtue.”

“Nothin's hopeless, Eri. There's always hope.”

“Not this time.”

“Lemme rephrase that. With an ass like that, there's always hope.”

That shuts Eridan up because, first, it's creepy as all fuck to hear your hatchmate say shit like that, and, second, it's even creepier to hear your hatchmate be right about shit like that. Lung capacity and quality of ass are the two categories in which Vantases cannot be beat. They are simply the best there is.

Eridan shakes himself from contemplation of his own Vantas's ass and asks, “You goin' to see him?”

Cronus shakes his head. “Nah. He gets pissy when I show up unexpected.”

“You could call and ask.”

“He might say no.”

Eridan thinks about saying, “Since when has that ever stopped you?” but that would get him sadface and a ridiculous lecture on consent with buzzwords misused and weird grammatical mistakes. Eridan's heard it before and still can't figure out if Cronus got it off Kankri or Porrim.

“You're stayin' in, then,” he says instead. “Crappy TV or crappy movie? _Not_ Troll Grease, we watched it once already this week.”

Cronus pouts but doesn't argue. He must not be too bothered about Kankri wussing out.

“Troll Disney?” he asks.

“Hunchback,” Eridan says.

“Shit, yeah.”

Troll Esmerelda is such a badass.

 

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

 

Sollux answered the entry portal with Roxy held close on one bony hip and, rather than letting Karkat and his passenger in, ducked out to join them on the steps and pulled the portal closed. He and Roxy looked a little wide-eyed.

“LL,” he explained. “And KL both. MT didn't tell me they were coming over.”

Karkat scowled but it was mostly reflexive. Dirk, nestled against his chest, didn't react; he was looking over his shoulder at Roxy, who stared back.

“Fine,” Karkat said. “Let's just go elsewhere, since we've both been cast out of our hives.”

“Kankri didn't cast us out,” Dirk noted, not looking away from Roxy. “He didn't want us to go.”

“MT didn't cast us out, either,” Roxy added. “He said we could totally stay and party with them.”

“He did not,” Karkat said. “I refuse to believe he said anything remotely similar. Too many actual words, not enough verbal keyboard smash.”

“That was what he meant,” Roxy said.

Sollux gave her an idle bounce and said, “Come on, RX, do you really want to party with them?”

Roxy seemed to consider the idea.

“Latula's cool,” she said.

“That wathn't an anther.” Sollux began to make his way down the hive stairs. Karkat followed.

Dirk said, “What's going on?” He seemed unhappy at having to ask.

As Roxy and Sollux bickered, Karkat explained, “Sollux lives with his hatchmate. Mituna invited his matesprit and moirail over without telling Sollux so we're going somewhere else to give them some space.”

“Is there something wrong with them?”

Karkat made a noncommital noise then said, “They get loud. Or, Mituna and Latula do. Kurloz – ” He hesitated, unsure how to explain the existence of a professional mime in his circle of acquaintances. “Kurloz is more the quiet type.”

Dirk seemed to accept this. “Is she – ” He stopped and blinked; Karkat could just see the movement of lashes under his ocular shields. “Stupid. She's the same Latula, isn't she?”

“Yeah,” Karkat said. “There's just the one of her.”

Dirk nodded. There was some kind of calculation going on in his head.

“What?”

Dirk looked up at him through the shields and said, “You guys are all kinds of incestuous, aren't you?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Are any of you quadranted with anyone outside your little hatchmate circles?”

“Y – N – What the fuck does that mean, incestuous?”

“Trolls don't have incest taboos,” Roxy called over. “They could pail their own hatchmates if they wanted!”

Sollux and Karkat stopped walking to stare at each other, then shuddered.

“No, fuck!”

“Fuck, no.”

“I didn't mean literal incest,” Dirk said, ignoring them. “I meant these weird little social groups they've arranged themselves into. Do they even talk to anyone aside from those dozen designated as part of their group?”

“Nope,” Roxy said, before Karkat or Sollux could find words. “And a lot of them don't even like each other, did you notice that?”

“I'd noticed nobody likes Kankri,” Dirk replied. “Except Ampora.”

“And that's just gross,” Roxy said. “It's like, you guys are allowed to have other friends, right? Just because the twelve of you hatched at the same time doesn't mean you're all stuck with each other.”

“Trolls are so weird. I'm Dirk, by the way. I'm Kankri's.”

“Oh, you poor grub. I'm Roxy and this is Sollux. He likes to think I'm his but really it's the other way. Don't tell!”

“You have my word,” Dirk said.

Roxy beamed; Dirk's mouth turned up at the corners. Sollux and Karkat looked at each other over their charges heads and, with one thought, headed for the sweetener-enhanced frozen butlercream shop.


	4. Chapter 4

Time passes. Karkat codes badly and watches a new romcom with the skill and acuity of a seasoned veteran. (It's okay – no new ground is tread but the central relationship is an auspicticism that doesn't get dissolved in favor of a flashier kismesissitude, which is rare enough for him to appreciate.) Sollux codes well and wanders in to belittle Karkat's cinematic expertise at plot-critical moments, the absolute shitstain.

Roxy stays out of the sopor, more or less, with encouragement from Dirk, who solicits her help on a new strifebot, on the condition she remain sober. The bot is another courting gift to Equius, Karkat is pretty sure. The last one lasted nearly a full half hour, and he thinks the wooing is working, whether or not Equius wants it to or is even aware of it.

By the ninth night after Eridan's initial panicked message, he's trolled seventeen times more, including a panicked flurry of 'i can't deal wwith this shit kar i can't deal wwith any a this' after the vet visit, and another the first time he had to administer Dave's medicine. (The kid's had some kind of respiratory infection and is now fine. This has not stopped Eridan from fretting, something of which Karkat approves. If there is an experience of human-lusushood that does not consist of a series of small bloodpusher attacks, it is not the one that he has had.)

He takes the most recent one ('hes sleepin but hes breathin real quiet is that okay or should he be snorin vvriss hume alwways snored like a motherfuck') to Dirk's block for the nightly status update and arrives just in time to hear Roxy shrieking with laughter. He pauses, unsure as to whether investigating would be good for his mental health. Roxy hails him before he can decide.

“Karkat! KK, get in here! Dirk is being hilarious!” she says.

Karkat looks in and finds them by the work station, Roxy seated in a swivel chair, back to her husktop, Dirk standing with his arms folded, eyes bare, goggles hanging around his neck. Roxy grins over at Karkat; Dirk is impassive. These are their default expressions. Most of the time, Karkat is glad they get along.

“I know he's your lusus, and I respect that, but it doesn't mean you have to pick up on all his revolting fucking habits, Roxy,” he says.

“Oh, shoosh,” she says and ignores his little growl of irritation. “We can discuss Solbutt later. Dirk is being awesome.” She looks back at Dirk. “Say it again, DS. Tell Karkitty what you told me.”

Dirk gives the impression of sighing without letting any air escape. The ability to project scorn without saying anything – or moving a gogdamn muscle – is one of those Dirkish skills Karkat has always half-envied, half known he'd never want to develop if it meant living for three formative sweeps with fucking _Kankri_.

“Roxy,” he begins.

Roxy flaps a hand at Karkat without looking, cutting off his attempt to chastise her for mixing Nepeta-isms into her repertoire. 

“Shoosh,” she says again. “Go on. Say it again. Or I'll say I didn't hear you the first time.”

“You did hear me, Roxy,” Dirk tells her. “You heard me and you laughed like a cacklebeast.”

“Say it,” she says, “or I'll make like I didn't hear anything for the last hour, and you'll have to repeat it all over again with Karkat standing right there.”

“The fuck makes you think I want to stand here listening to this assfuck prattling about his pailbots for a fucking hour?”

Roxy hoots with laughter again. Dirk's face goes somehow blanker. Karkat reviews what he's just said and buries his face in his hands.

“Dirk,” he says. “You are not making a pailbot for Zahhak. I forbid it. Do you understand me? I _forbid_ it. This is my hive, sort of, and I refuse to live under the same roof as someone who makes pailbots for Equius hoofbeastfucking Zahhak. If you are making pailbots for Zahhak, I will have to move out, do you understand? I will have to go live in a tree or under a bridge or, fuck, maybe I'll just go join Nepeta in her magical cave land. Is that what you want, Dirk? Do you want me to go die a messy, humiliating death in the Beforan wilderness, probably traumatizing Nepeta, Jake, and Jade beyond help in the process, all because you can't control your batshit blueblood fetish? Because that's the way we're headed here. That's the way we're going. The life of the troll who rescued you from Kankri _fucking_ Vantas is in your weirdly pink human hands. Say you are not building a pailbot for Zahhak and I will live to shriek another day.”

He peeks up in time to catch a flicker of amusement at the corners of Dirk's usually-hidden eyes. It's the one part of his face he can't seem to control.

“Dirk?” he says again.

“I'm not making a pailbot for Equius,” Dirk says.

Karkat lets out a vast huff of relief.

“Oh, gog,” he says. “Gogdamn. Thank you. Thank you, Dirk. The wilderness recedes from my future.”

“I am, however, using the information logs from the strifebots I've made for him to perfect restraints I hope to use to prevent him from accidentally murdering me midcoitus.”

“The wilderness! It rises again!”

“That's not even the funny part,” Roxy says, heartlessly ignoring the impending doom of her adoptive lusus. “Tell him what you said before, Dirk, right before he came in!”

“I smell foliage! A stream is running in the distance!”

“I'm concerned the readings I'm getting are too controlled,” Dirk says. He's totally enjoying this.

“Maybe the stream leads to my death. I should follow it.”

“I need to know more about his involuntary muscle movements.”

“Faster, stream, let's hurry it up, here.”

“What he's like when he's not in control.”

“Yes, thank you,” Karkat says. “I got that. You can stop at any time.”

“I'm not building a pailbot for Zahhak,” says Dirk. It's no longer comforting.

“Sorry,” Karkat says. “You've ruined it. Only wilderness remains.” His palmhusk chimes and he gropes into his pocket for it. “In fact, it's good thing. I embrace the wilderness, now. I crave it. I long for the mortal embrace of – shit.”

Dark blue text, liberally sprinkled with 8s, is filling up his screen.

“Fuckdammit,” he adds and turns away, towards the stairs.

“You were going the other way,” Roxy calls.

“No shit,” Karkat snaps. “I _was_ retreating to the relative safety and sanity of my own gogdamn respite block. Now I'm not. Now I'm going to the door because some shitstain fuckwaffle has left a human wiggler cluttering up the nice, clean front stoop of our lovely hive. Argh.”

“Vriska?” Dirk asks as Roxy's saying, “John's visiting? Yay!”

He can hear her enthusiastic applause halfway down the stairs, at which point it cuts off with a shriek.

 

Karkat's palmhusk chimes again as he steps back into the hive. He curses and tucks John under his arm, carrying him like a cylindrical wood chunk, to fish it from his pocket as he kicks the door shut behind him.

Eridan. Eridan calling, not just texting. Of course it would be Eridan. Too much to hope he'd only have to deal with on human grub at a time.

“Yeah, what?” he asks, on answering, and begins carrying John to Roxy's block, where he spends most of his time during his sporadic visits. “I'm a little fucking bit busy, right now, Ampora.”

There's a little hesitation before Eridan responds.

“Busy with what?” he asks.

Karkat snorts and shifts his grip as John begins to slip. He seems pretty floppy and docile, not protesting the less-than-gentle treatment. Vriska probably gave him sopor or something so he wouldn't throw a fit when she left him. The thought brings a fresh wave of irritation and he's only too happy for the opportunity to vent.

_Some people shouldn't have humans._

“Your blackcrush just dumped her baby on us,” he says. “So now not only do I have to worry about making sure my human eats, my moirail eats, and my moirail's human doesn't eat sopor, I have to worry about his nutritional needs and whatever fresh psychological scars she has, in her endless batshittery, seen fit to bestow on the poor, hornless grub bastard. Stop that,” he adds when John's hands close on the arm wrapped around him. John doesn't let go but he also doesn't start pulling or squirming around, and Karkat sighs as he realizes what he probably wants. “Just a sec.” He has to take the phone from his ear to rearrange John to sit on his nonexistent hip, but once he's settled he can hold him with one arm again. John snuggles against him with a little sigh that makes Karkat's lips curl up in spite of himself.

“Sorry,” he tells Eridan. “Kid's falling asleep on me. I think Vriska gave him sopor again.”

“You can do that?” Eridan asks, too interested. “I thought you said – “

“I did say,” Karkat snaps. “Vriska only does it because she's terrible. Don't be terrible, Eridan. Don't give your baby sopor. Okay, here we go – no?”

John refuses to placed on Roxy's cushioned respite platform; his little hands have locked into Karkat's sweater and won't be moved.

“Fuck, fine,” he mutters, after a moment's thought, and gathers John against him again. He'll go put on a movie or something. John can sleep through them, he knows from experience, and will watch them happily enough once he wakes up. Kid has excellent taste.

“Kar?” Eridan. He'd kind of forgotten he was talking to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Karkat says, heading for his own block. “What?”

“Vris left John with you?” he asks.

“That's what I said.” He props the phone on his shoulder to navigate the entry portal. “She does that. Couple times a perigee. When she's off psychopathing and doesn't want to take him along, I guess. You need something or did you just call to chat?”

“I was thinkin' bout that playdate we was talkin' about,” he says. “See, the thing is – “

“Eridan,” Karkat begins.

“Thing is, Kankri's here,” he says and Karkat shuts up with a grimace. “Cronus brought Kankri over an' the kid's awake now, and Kankri's all preachin' at us over him an' Cronus is makin' moves all over him an' I can barely stand it, Kar, it can't be a healthy atmosphere for a baby, it ain't even healthy for me. So I was wonderin' if me an' Dave could come hide out at yours for a bit. An' if John's there – maybe they can get along. An' I can help with the feedin' an' all, I can cook, just, please, Kar? Do this for me?”

Karkat wants to refuse. He really wants to refuse. Both on principle and because he's not sure he's up to dealing with and another kid who might be a fucking nightmare. (And in part, secretly, because he kind of worries about leaving Cronus and Kankri alone together. For reasons.) But he cannot in good conscious abandon anyone to Kankri. Especially not a little kid. He kidnapped Dirk for a reason.

“Is anyone else over there?” he asks.

“Just Porrim. I think she's tryin' to protect Kan's honor or somethin'.”

Karkat's most serious reservation fades.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fine. Come over and hide behind the recuperacoon until our hatchmates go away. Me and John are watching some movies and once Roxy gets done with Dirk – ” He stops, realizing he's just thinking out loud, now. “Just come on. And don't tell them where you're going. Gog forbid Kankri decides to _visit_.”

“Amen to that,” Eridan says. Sweet, honest relief is in his voice. “Thanks, Kar. I owe you one.”

“I'll add it to your tab.”

 

When Eridan tunes back in, Kankri is talking, again – still? – chastising Cronus, anyway, for something or other, while Cronus looks unimpressed and smug.

“ – it's commendable that you take such personal interest in your profession, I can't but point out that the more lascivious expressions of this interest are – ”

Oh, right. Cronus got written up for coming onto landdwellers he'd rescued. Again. This happened once or twice a perigee but the Seavior Corps hadn't seen fit to fire him, yet. Maybe there's nowhere else to put him. His elective schoolfeeding sure didn't prepare him for anything but swimming (how was that even a thing for seadwellers?) and fucking with his gogdamned guitar. (Unlike Eridan, who had not only studied something sensible – battlefield history and strategy – but had actually had a Plan B, in the event the Beforan Peace Keepers had their heads up their waste chutes and wouldn't accept him. (They had and they hadn't; thus did Eridan's Plan B engineering schoolfeeding become a glittering career in hydroelectric energy. He's still kind of bitter about that.))

This train of thought it shaken off as self-pity is threatening to harsh his feelings of triumph concerning Karkat. As satisfying as a good wallow can be, he's got somewhere to be and a human to take with him. A human who is – tugging at Eridan's pantleg. Eridan looks down to meet half-lidded eyes.

“What is it, kid?” he asks.

“Cronus is making faces,” Dave informs him, well loud enough for Cronus – who's kind of leering at Kankri in a really unsettling way, no wonder Dave noticed – to hear. “It's weird. Tell him to stop.”

Cronus is making a different face, now, affronted to the extreme and Eridan doesn't bother to conceal a snicker.

“You heard the kid, Cronus,” he says, ignoring Kankri's frown. “Don't make faces. You'll upset him.”

“M' not upset.” Dave lifts his arms as Eridan stoops to pick him up. “S' just weird, is all.” One small hand fists in the front of Eridan's shirt. He won't fit this perfectly in Eridan's arms forever but for the moment he can admit it's pretty nice. Kid is light as a feather, too, for seadweller strength.

“Don't be weird, Cronus,” Eridan says. “It ain't cool.”

Dave nods, satisfied.

“Not cool,” he says.

“I ain't weird,” Cronus says.

Kankri, silent for a good thirty seconds, cuts in.

“Far be it for me to question your capabilities as a human custodian,” he says, “but you should not encourage this sort of prejudice in so impressionable a young mind, Eridan. Granted that he's only human but to use abnormality or actions outside of the mainstream, or those that might be perceived as being outside of the mainstream, as insults is not only problematic in itself, in that it suggests any such deviations from the so-called norm is by definition undesirable, but can be triggering for a number of – ”

“Good to see you, Kankri,” Eridan breaks in. “I'd love to stay and suff – talk but Dave's got a playdate and I'm takin' him to it. Later.”

He starts toward the door. His satchel is hanging close by, convenient for a quick getaway.

“Eridan,” Kankri begins, disapproval in his voice, “I really think both you and little Dave could benefit from – ”

“Oh, no doubt,” he says cheerily. “But ya gotta keep in mind, Kankri, that what with regular socialization with other humes bein' so critical to their psychological development an' all, playdates are one a the most important parts a a growin' baby's life. Can't go skivvin' off his very first one.”

He's got his satchel on one shoulder, his baby on his other arm, and the door opens under his hand. Perfectly timed. You cannot beat Eridan Ampora in an flee-off. He is simply the best there is.

“Later,” he says again, and absconds.

 

He sends Dirk a warning from his palmhusk and stops by Sollux's block to give him the news in person. Sollux is at his husktop, to Karkat's shock and amazement, and barely grunts to acknowledge his, “Hey, nookstain.” Being in possession of a sleeping three-sweep-old, Karkat decides the best way to get his moirail's attention is to place the three-sweep-old in Sollux's bony lap.

“Urk – uh, hey! KK!” He flails, steadies John by long-held instinct, and blinks down at him. Karkat folds his arms watches him turn the image of big blue eyes and unhappy baby scowl into usable information. Sollux licks his lips.

“Tho,” he says. “I gueth VK came by?”

Karkat rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Sollux. Vriska did come by. Vriska came by. And left again. And trolled me to look after John. In that order.”

Sollux sighs and tugs John in to lean against him, which he does happily enough.

“I'm holding you personally responsible for this, by the way,” Karkat goes on. “You. Sollux Captor. Are hereby held personally responsible for this time and every gogdamned time this happens. This is your fault. Entirely. Completely. Your fault. It is your fault we are stuck with babysitting duty once a perigee. It is your fault Vriska uses us as a drop point on her way to San Fuckknowsistan. It is your fault. You made this happen. All because his pretty blue eyes happen to appeal to your fucked-up aesthetic preferences _about half the time_.”

“I know, KK.” Sollux is actually hugging John, now, looking impossibly weary, and John is hugging him back, little arms wound around Sollux's bony sides. “You don't actually need to thcream the fucking houthe down. Every fucking time.”

Karkat sighs, anger slipping away. The shine of Sollux's eyes is pretty dim, now that he's looking for it. He should have noticed that first.

Shit.

Karkat steps a little closer and lays a hand on the back of Sollux's neck.

“Feeling bad?” he asks.

“Yeth.” There's an edge of annoyance to it that's heartening to hear. Not a crisis, then. “Well-thpotted.”

Karkat rubs little circles on either side of his head, just behind the hinge of his jaw.

“Headache?”

“What the fuck elthe?” He seems about to shrug Karkat off then huffs out a breath and leans his head into his torso instead.

“Need anything?”

“A brain tranthplant.”

Karkat snorts, but quietly.

“There are trolls in far more need than you, Captor,” he says, and then, “Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news – ”

“Hoofbeathtshit,” Sollux grumbles and Karkat paps the side of his head.

“But,” he says, “we're getting another guest.”

Sollux groans.

“Gets better,” Karkat goes on. “It's really two guests. Troll plus human wriggler. And this troll will be sticking around.”

“Kanaya,” Sollux says. “Tell me it'th Kanaya. I can handle her.”

“Sorry, dude.” There's sincerity buried under the snark. “Eridan fucking Ampora has a Kankri infestation and needs somewhere to hide.”

“Argh.” Sollux tries to facepalm without letting go of John and ends up kind of bonking his face against the kid's head. “Doeth it have to be here?” he asks.

“My genetic code created this problem,” Karkat says. “I told you about this risk when we were talking about moving in together. No take-backs.”

“But Eridan? Can't be jutht leave him to Kankri? He hath to deal with hith hatchmate all the time, why can't – ”

Sollux seems to realize what, exactly, Karkat's hatchmate in the vicinity of Eridan's means and groans again.

“Fuck,” he says. It's the sound of defeat, slightly muffled. Karkat rubs his back.

“Why don't you just go to your cocoon?” he says. “Then you don't have to deal with Eridan. But I thought you might like to meet Dave.”

“That'th hith human? Why?”

“Because Dave's eyes are red.”

 

The dose Vriska gave John must not have been much, thank fuck, because the kid's perking up again by the time Ampora makes it over. Sollux has been revived by painkillers and coffee and Dirk and Roxy have migrated with everyone else to the recreation block for the Great Movie Debate. They've just about settled on Troll Lord of the Rings (it has geek cred for Sollux and Roxy, hoofbeasts for Dirk, and the glorious pale-black flip of Troll Gandalf and Troll Saruman for Karkat) when the entrygrub squeaks.

The look Karkat sends Sollux is met with a glower and no movement; Roxy has John in her lap and isn't going anywhere; and Dirk – absconded in the time it took Karkat to blink. He's probably not going to answer the entry portal out of the goodness of his bloodpusher. The withered darkness, perhaps, but not the goodness. Karkat rises from his crouch by the grubplayer and stretches.

“It's fine, I've got it,” he grumbles on his way to the portal. “Don't get up.”

“Wathn't planning on it,” Sollux says and Karkat flips him off over his shoulder. They are the best custodians. Kankri would be so proud.

It's Eridan. Obviously. Eridan, who Karkat hasn't seen in the flesh for perigees, but hasn't changed at all, still all sinew and narrow muscle, with violet-streaked hair. The stupid scarf and hipster glasses are present and accounted for but he's foregone the cape, which is a pleasant surprise. He has a satchel over one shoulder – a largish one, black with his symbol embroidered on the front – and a small human held against the nothingness of his hip. A very small human. Smaller than John, even, and the bones in his wrist are too pronounced where he clings to Eridan's sweater. His eyes are the color Karkat's will be, one day, his hair is white-blonde, only a few shades off from his pallid skin. Karkat stares a little too long at that bony wrist and his chest aches.

“Hi,” he says, belatedly.

Eridan moves, a self-conscious little shift of weight.

“Uh, hey, Kar,” he says.

There's a beat of silence. The impassive way the kid is watching him can't be natural.

“Can – uh – we come in?” Eridan asks.

Karkat steps back with a wince.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Fuck, sorry, come on, I just wasn't – ”

He stops to close and latch the portal behind them, then turns to find Eridan standing there facing him. Dave is still staring.

“Yeah,” Eridan says, anxiety and pride melded in his voice. “He's surprisin'.”

“That's one way to put it, I guess,” Karkat says, then addresses the child. “Hi,” he says. “You must be Dave. I'm Karkat.”

He holds out his hand and Dave, after a moment of visible consideration, wraps a few of Karkat's fingers up in his skinny hand to shake.

“S'up,” he says and the trepidation not visible in his face lingers in his voice. Karkat is almost relieved. He already has one –

“S'up.”

Dirk is standing right behind Ampora, grubcorn in hand. Ampora jerks and squeaks and Karkat reaches to steady him as he turns.

“What're you holding them in the hall for, dude?” Dirk asks, not smirking like every lack of facial expression he's ever had. “We've got movies to watch.”

Dirk ambles back into the rec block without waiting for a response.

“Troll Lord of the Rings,” Karkat clarifies. “We voted before you got here, sorry, but it's got that magic shit you like so much, so whatever.”

“Fake ass magic shit,” Eridan grumbles as they follow in Dirk's wake, but Karkat hadn't missed the little flare of excitement.

Everyone loves Troll Lord of the Rings.


	5. Chapter 5

Introductions are made for Dave but kept low-key; they all know his story and no one wants to overwhelm him. He remains outwardly impassive, shaking hands when offered, saying nothing more than 'Hi' or 'S'up' to anyone – aside from Roxy, who gets an, 'I know' plus an honest-to-gog lip twitch when she calls him adorable. He is pretty adorable, even obviously malnourished as he is. Once the Amporas feed him up a bit, get him healthy – well, it's something Karkat wants to see, in any case.

Eridan sits by Roxy on the multiperson seating unit at her insistence, so John and Dave can get a better look at one another leaving Karkat to share the floor with Dirk, while Sollux remains camped out in the single seat unit with his husktop.

The hobbits have made it to Bree before anything of note happens to the little viewing party. Karkat doesn't think much of it; he's used to John, remembers Roxy and Dirk at that age, so when Dave pipes up after Aragorn's first introduction – a small voice echoing 'Strider' in the tension of the Prancing Miniature Hoofbeast – he just smiles to himself and thinks of John chanting 'put the bunny back in the box' and Dirk proclaiming that it's wasn't faith that made good science. It had been a pretty good Troll Barnhardt but his Troll Sherlock Holmes had been better. Roxy made a good Troll Watson.

He schools his face and looks back at Dave, who's still watching the screen with big eyes, and catches a glimpse of Eridan mouthing dialogue. That almost makes him snort. It's kind of adorable, he thinks, and goes back to the movie.

Dave keeps it up, repeating 'Strider' in his weird, soft voice, whenever someone in the movie says it; and then lets out a little 'hey' when he learns Aragorn has other names. Eridan leaves off mooning to murmur, “What's up, kid?” and Karkat looks back to see an honest-to-gog pout on Dave's pale face.

“Strider,” Dave says. “Strider is better. Why don't they call him that?”

Dirk and Roxy are paying attention now. Sollux moves in his seat and the movie pauses itself.

“How's it better?” Eridan asks. “Aragorn's a great name. Loads a history behind it.”

“I'm Strider,” says Dave.

One of Dirk's eyebrows becomes visible over his ocular shields.

“Are you, now?” he asks. “No offense, dude, but you're not quite as ruggedly handsome as Troll Viggo Mortensen. Maybe give it a couple more sweeps before making that claim.”

Dave frowns at him. He's emoting all over the place.

“I am,” he says. “Dave Strider.”

“That's right,” Eridan says, missing, along with everyone else, except maybe Roxy, the flicker of shock at the edges of Dirk's deadpan. “You said that when we got you. Not sure it's a basis for dismissin' the historical an' mythological significance a Aragorn, but there's somethin to be said for sentimental value.

He looks up with the edges of a smile on his face, about to say more, but whatever expression Karkat is wearing stops him. He blinks and says, “What?”

Karkat tears his eyes from Eridan and Dave – Dave Strider, jegus bulge-shitting fuck – and looks to his own Strider. Dirk's face is blanker than Karkat's seen it since Kankri threatened to take them to court.

“Um,” he says, and then just waits.

 

Dirk is six sweeps old and he doesn't know how to handle this. It's a new experience for him; handling things it what he does. It's his thing. He handled Kankri alone in a hive for a sweep and half and Karkat and Kankri alone in a hive for a sweep and a half more. He handled Kankri's passive aggressive long-distance tantrums for another three or four perigees before the righteous indignation wore off. He's handled Roxy on a sopor high and Roxy on a crash; he handled Roxy O.D.ed and didn't flip his shit, not even a little. He's handled Sollux at his worst, manic or depressed, handled household catastrophes, homeless Makaras, Serkets and babies and explosions and quadrant dramas. He's handled Equius in denial and Nepeta in distress, rolled with the cat puns and carried the RP all the way.

Dirk Strider once role-played an earnest petition for the hand of Nepeta Leijon's moirail and didn't break his poker face. He just fucking handled it.

He can't handle this.

Roxy is boggling; Karkat is open-mouthed, staring. Eridan doesn't know what the big deal is and Sollux – Sollux is looking at Dirk, like he's not sure how to handle it either.

Easy for him to think. It's not his – It's not Mituna sitting there in Eridan Ampora's lap. It's not Mituna and anyway Sollux knows Mituna, has always known Mituna. Mituna isn't a surprise.

Dirk finds himself reaching out before he gives his arms clearance to move and, rather than betray a lack of cool by jerking back, he goes with it. He rolls. He reaches the fuck out and says, “Gimme,” to Eridan and lifts the child off his lap.

“Hey,” Eridan starts, but Roxy waves a hand under his nose and he stops to scowl at her. It's distraction enough for Dirk to ease Dave down into his own lap and look at him – carefully, this time. He can kind of see it, he thinks. Now that he's looking for it.

“S'up,” he says as Dave blinks those big red eyes at him. “So you're a Strider.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “Dave Strider.” He reaches an idle hand for Dirk's ocular shields and, gently, Dirk fends him off.

“Me too,” he tells him. “Dirk Strider. You want to give me a hand with something?”

Dave tilts his head.

“Okay,” he says. “You're cool.”

Dirk almost allows himself a smirk.

“Damn right I'm cool,” he says and gathers Dave a little closer. “Coolest dude you'll ever meet.” He rises in one smooth motion; little hands have latched onto the front of his t-shirt. “Ampora,” he says. “I'm just gonna borrow this for a second.”

Ampora looks as if he's going to protest but a gray hand comes from outside Dirk's field of vision and whacks him on the knee. Ampora turns his eyes to where Karkat is seated and scowls harder.

“Alright,” he says. “But you better not do anything weird to him, kid, or it'll come outta your hide.”

“Noted.” Dirk shifts Dave to sit more comfortably against his side. “Nothing weird. We'll just be a minute.”

Dirk is aware of his pulse pounding in his veins, of the tension in his whole body as he carries Dave off to his respite block-lab and wills himself to chill. The kid has his ear pressed to his chest , casual as if a strange person weren't carrying him off to a strange place and the sound of a bloodpusher attack might just break that calm.

Dirk places Dave on the stool at his workbench while he roots through his desk; it's weirdly gratifying how reluctant he seems to be put down, pale fingers tightening in the fabric of Dirk's shirt before loosening enough for it to slip free.

“Where is this?” Dave asks. He's looking around the admittedly odd block, expression quizzical, so far as any expression has formed. The walls not covered in shelves of robot parts have blueprints and drawings pinned to them and the unmade respite platform has a pile of clean clothes on its foot. The dirty ones form an equal pile in the storage recess, which is otherwise full of yet more shelves, these holding puppets, plushes, and their raw materials.

“My respite block,” Dirk tells him. “You have gained entry to the inner sanctum, little dude.” He stops rummaging and plugs the genetic material processing device into his husktop's USB port. Then he turns to Dave, offering s brief quirk of lips. “Feel honored.”

“Do I get a respite block?” Dave asks, not visibly honored.

“That's up to Ampora,” Dirk tells him, snapping on some latex hand covers. “Between you and me, you should. It's good for dudes like us to have our own space.” He peels sterile plastic wrapping off a cotton swab and says, “Open your mouth for me.”

Dave complies. Dirk scrapes the inside of his cheek with the swab and steps away. Dave's mouth closes.

“All done. Just one second more and we'll get back to that rad movie magic.”

“Magic's not real,” Dave tells him, then observes, “This is weird. Eridan said not to do anything weird.”

“This isn't weird.” Dirk has the swab in his processing device and is typing an e-mail to Equius while the data compiles. “This is a totally normal thing we're going. Anybody with the right equipment would do the same.”

“No,” Dave says. “It's weird. What are you doing?”

“I'm sending your genetic information to a friend of mine. Genetics are a science thing. It's what makes you you. I want to know what makes you, little man.”

The data finishes. Dirk attaches it and sends the e-mail off then looks at Dave. Dave is looking back at him, frowning.

“You could ask me,” he says.

Dirk feels himself trying to smile and goes to pick Dave up again instead.

“I don't think you could tell me. Do you know your own genetic code?”

“No.” He sounds a little put out but latches onto Dirk's shirt again.

“I don't know mine either. No one does. But it's an important thing to find out. That's why we needed the swab and husktop. Okay?”

“Why's it important?”

Dirk holds Dave tighter to his chest, feels the curl of little fingers press against him through the cloth, and allows himself a sniff of pale yellow hair. He smells clean, mostly.

“We gotta find out what makes awesome dudes awesome,” he says. “If we can do that, we might just be able to reproduce it and increase the world supply of cool. Thanks for contributing,” he adds.

Dave is silent as Dirk begins to carry him back towards the rec block. But a few steps on, a quiet voice tells him, “You're welcome.”

 

Dirk and Dave are gone for less than ten minutes but Eridan is twitching and grumbling after about one and a half.

“Your baby better not hurt mine, Kar,” he says. “Or do anythin' – ”

“Weird, I know, you said,” Karkat interrupts. “Calm down, jegus fuck, you'd think Dirk was a notorious human child molestor, not the devoted companion of one of your best fucking friends.”

“You better be referring to yourthelf, KK,” Sollux says, not looking up from his screen.

“Don't you start,” Karkat tells him. “Yes, I'm referring to my _thelf, Tholluckth_. Go back to your dwarf massacres.”

“I will blow up your huthktop from right here,” Sollux says.

“And listen to me bitch for the next seven or eight perigees, right. That threat was more effective when we didn't fucking live in the same fucking hive.”

Eridan's hands are opening and closing, making white-knuckled fists each time, and he's scowling from Sollux to rec block door and back. Distraction, in the form of Roxy plonking John into his lap, delays the brewing bitchfit. Eridan catches John before he can topple, gently enough for Karkat to mentally applaud, then blinks down at him.

“Uh, hey, kid,” he says.

“Hi, Eridan.” John gives him a little wave. “Where's your cape?”

The tips of his earfins go purple. Karkat mouths 'thank you' to Roxy, who giggles.

“I ain't wearin' it tonight,” he says. “A cape ain't what you call an everyday kinda garment.”

Sollux, Karkat and Roxy laugh in a burst that colors Eridan's earfins further.

“You were wearing it every other time,” John says. “It looked dumb.”

“So ya' told me,” Eridan says, ignoring the continued snickers around him. “You were wrong then and you're wrong now, too. Capes are the epitome a class an style.”

“Capes are cool,” John agrees. “Mostly. It's just yours that's dumb.”

“Wouldn't expect a wiggler like you to understand,” Eridans tells him. “So I'll give you a pass on this egregious lack a taste. But I dunno what the rest a your excuses are.”

“I don't think we're the ones who need excuses, Ampora,” Karkat says. “Pro tip: If you fashion sense makes a baby who willingly wears a wind sock on his head cringe in proxy embarrassment, there's a slight fucking chance you should reassess your sartorial choices.”

“Yeah, well,” Eridan says, over John's indignant squawk. “Fuck you. Like you're anybody to talk about fashion, you an your closet fulla black sweaters.”

“And even I can tell your cape is fucking ridiculous. The fuck do you know about the contents of my closet?”

“I know that in all the sweeps a our acquaintance I ain't never seen you wear somethin' – ”

Dirk and Dave reappear and Eridan loses interest in the argument. He begins to reach out then looks down at John with an expression of bewilderment.

“Can one a you take this one?” he asks. “I'd like my human back, now, if it ain't too much trouble.”

Karkat reaches out to take John, who is more bothered by the insult to his prized blue headwear (“My hat isn't doofy!” “John, the doofiness of that hat can be sensed from other planes of existence.”) than by being passed around so casually. Dirk returns Dave to Eridan, who examines him with suspicion writ in every line of his aristocratic face.

“Thanks,” Dirk says to him and returns to his place beside Karkat.

His appearance distracts John, who looks over at him and says, “You left.”

“Yeah,” Dirk says. “But I'm back, now.” He offers his fist, which John obediently bunps with his own.

“Where'd you go?”

“Just introducing Dave to my sweet secret lair.”

“You mean your respite block? Your block is weird, it smells funny.”

“It smells awesome.”

“Why did you take Dave there?”

“Yeah,” says Eridan, now satisfied that no physical harm has come to his small charge. “Why did you take him there? What'd you do to him? I said nothin' weird!”

Dirk opens his mouth but it's Dave's gentle murmur that comes next.

“We did science,” he says. “It wasn't weird.”

For a second Karkat could swear Dirk looks proud. Eridan, meanwhile, looks torn between rage, confusion and the sort of fanboy glee that comes into his face every time science or magic are mentioned.

“Science, huh?” he says. “What kinda science?”

“Awesome science,” Dave says.

And then he leans into Eridan's chest and won't say anything more.

 

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

CG: FEFERI.  
CG: YOU AND MEENAH HAVE A HUMAN NAMED JANE, RIGHT?  
CC: Crabkat! 38D  
CC: Y-ES, W-E DO! And s)(e is WOND-ERFUL!!!!  
CC: W)(y?  
CG: I JUST MOVED IN WITH KANKRI AND HE'S BEEN NEGLECTING HIS DUTY TO PROPERLY SOCIALIZE HIS HUMAN, DIRK.  
CG: SOLLUX'S WORDS. HE'S A LITTLE PISSED OFF.  
CC: Oh! Poor Dirk.  
CC: OF COURS-E )(e is, Sollux is so GR-EAT with )(umans!  
CC: Karkat, are you t)(inking PLAYDAT-E?  
CG: I WAS, YEAH.  
CG: APPARENTLY, DIRK MET JANE AT ONE OF MEENAH'S CONFECTIONARY ORGIES AND WAS IMPRESSED. HE DOESN'T IMPRESS EASILY, SO I FIGURED IT WAS WORTH A SHOT.  
CG: YOU UP FOR IT?  
CC: S)(OR-------ETAINLY!!!!!! 38D  
CC: We s)(ould ask Nepeta and JAK-E, too!  
CC: Jake is suc)( a sweetie!  
CG: COOL, I'LL TROLL THEM NEXT AND WE CAN ALL FIGURE OUT WHEN AND WHERE.  
CG: THANKS, FEFERI.  
CC: No codlem!  
CC: Later, Crabkat!  
CG: BYE.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip[AC]

CG: NEPETA.  
CG: HOW DO YOU AND JAKE FEEL ABOUT PLAYDATES?  
AC: :33 < *the mighty jungle kitty curls protectively around her human grub, sniffing the air suspiciously*  
CG: I DON'T KNOW HOW I COULD POSSIBLY EXPECT ANYTHING ELSE.  
CG: THE TROLLS WAITS IN A NONTHREATENING, IF SOMEWHAT IRRITATED FASHION FOR THE TROLL PRETENDING TO BE A JUNGLE PURRBEAST TO GET HER ROLEPLAY BULLSHIT OUT OF HER SYSTEM.  
CG: THEN SHE DOES AND THEY HAVE AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION LIKE THE GROWN-UPS THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE.  
AC: :33 < *the great furrsome jungle cat  
AC: :33 < hey! no gog-modding!  
CG: YEAH, YEAH, THE TROLL IS SORRY FOR HIS BREACH OF DUMBASS RP ETIQUETTE, THOUGH HOW THAT CAN EVEN BE A THING IS BEYOND HIM.  
CG: NOW. PLAYDATES.  
AC: :33 < so rude.  
AC: :33 < but i guess i can accept your apurrlogy.  
AC: :33 < if you purromise i can put dirk in cosplay!  
CG: NEWS TRAVELS SO FAST IN THIS FUCKING TOWN.  
CG: SURE, COSPLAY HIM, WHATEVER, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. I CAN TAKE PICTURES AND PISS KANKRI OFF.  
AC: :33 < that's not very nice!  
CG: NEITHER IS HE.  
CG: YOU KNOW HE TRIED TO MAKE DIRK EAT ORGANIC HUMAN CHOW?  
AC: :XX < ewwww!  
AC: :33 < what cosplay would piss him off most?  
CG: WHATEVER'S THE MOST PR96LEMATIC.  
CG: FEFERI AND JANE ARE COMING, TOO, AND I CAN BRING SOLLUX AND ROXY ALONG. IT'LL BE A HUMAN COSPLAY PARTY.  
AC: :33 < you're the best, karkitty!

CarcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

CG: PLAYDATE: TOMORROW NIGHT, NEPETA'S CAVE.  
CG: FEFERI'S BRINGING JANE, SO YOU MIGHT WANT TO SHOWER FOR ONCE.  
TA: fuck you, two, kk.  
TA: why np's cave?  
CG: WE'RE PUTTING THE HUMANS IN TROLL ANIME COSPLAY TO PISS KANKRI OFF.  
TA: 2weet.  
TA: what anime?  
CG: ATTACK ON TITAN.

 

**The present:**

 

Dirk turns up for breakfast four nights after Dave and Ampora stop by. It's neither usual nor unusual but he has an actual expression on his face so Karkat bites his tongue on the habitual evening harangue and puts water on to boil with only a, “How many?” over his shoulder.

“Four.”

Which is better than six but not great. The things Dirk in crisis mode does to fragile shelled protein nodules couldn't be shown on cable.

Karkat bites his tongue harder; he tastes blood and his own protein nodules are more scrambled than they've been since the weeks surrounding his break-up with Gamzee.

He offers toasted nutrition loaf slices, which Dirk takes with gelatinous orange preserves and they eat in silence until their plates are clear and neither are moving to clean them up.

“More coffee?” Karkat asks.

“That would be good.”

He takes their handled beverage containers in one hand, the nutrition platters in the other and fills and disposes of them, respectively. He takes his coffee with butlermilk and sweetening agent and Dirk usually takes his black but a hunch has Karkat dropping sweetening agent into his, too.

When Dirk takes a sip he says, “I'm not distraught.” But he doesn't put the container down.

“I know,” Karkat says. “You are the ultimate in chill. Troll and human alike pilgrimage leagues on foot to learn the Way of Cool at your feet.”

“Damn straight they do,” Dirk says. He's addressing his coffee.

Karkat waits. If Dirk actually wanted to hold out he'd be waiting a long ass time and he knows it.

“I got an e-mail from Equius,” Dirk says, after a while.

Karkat waits, again, then says, “Has my second favorite hoofbeast fetishist embraced his destiny and fallen into your frail human arms?”

“Not yet.” His usual assurance, tucked away behind careful blankness for the rest of the conversation, asserts itself. Karkat almost smiles. “He's finished the test I asked him to run. Dave shares half my genetic code.”

Karkat considers this.

“Kankri shares like ninety percent of mine,” he says. “What's your point?”

Dirk looks like he would be glaring if he hadn't forgotten how to form facial expressions. It's kind of comforting.

“Genetic coding is different for humans,” Dirk says and proceeds to explain how. Karkat half listens, watching his mouth move and his fingers twitch – the Dirk equivalent of grand, sweeping gestures. He tunes back in when he hears, “You know this.”

“Yeah,” Karkat agrees, because he sort of does. “You're saying Dave is your hatchmate.”

“Brother,” Dirk says. “He's my brother.” There's an extra note in his voice, something like incredulity.

“Okay.” Karkat takes a slow sips from his coffee. “Dave is your brother. What exactly do you want me to do about it? He's already been adopted and even if I hadn't had enough of full time grub care with you and Roxy there's no legal precedent stating human siblings have to be raised together.”

“I know that,” Dirk says. “I need time to think about it.”

Karkat doesn't ask why he didn't do that before he brought it up. He just says, “Let me know when you decide,” and runs his fingers through his own hair. “In the meantime, I'll set up another _playdate_.”

Dirk gives a serious nod.

“That would be my preferred course of action,” he says.

Karkat snorts. “You're welcome.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

The puppets became a thing about six perigees after Karkat moved in and he could never tell how long Dirk had been planning them. They began with a trip to the supply depot and a casual, “Can we stop at the craft material sector?” The sewing supplies seemed innocent, even endearing, until the first smuppet appeared.

At breakfast.

“Oh my gog,” Karkat said, staring into the orange felt snout of hell. “What the fuck is it.”

It wasn't a question so much as a denial. The object in question was a little rough, not so polished and perfect as only a few more weeks practice would produce, but the basic (and sincerely upsetting) design was already set and would remain much the same forever after.

“I made it,” Dirk said, as if one whipped up petite horrorterrors as a part of everyday life. “Don't you like it?”

“No,” Karkat said. He was trying to figure out how best to destroy the beady eyes and impudent, jutting buttocks without making contact with it.

“Cool,” Dirk said. “How about Kankri? Will he like it?”

“There is nothing about this,” Karkat said, “that is not pr96lematic. _Nothing._ ”

“Yeah.” Dirk sounded pleased with himself. “I thought it was pretty good myself.”

Karkat tore his eyes away from the abomination sullying his consumption surface just in time to catch the smirk.

“You are a terrible human,” he said and recognized admiration in his own voice.

Dirk smirked again and said, “Thanks.”

 

Based on that conversation, Karkat was pretty sure Dirk hadn't intended to like making the things; they were just one more way to irritate Kankri. The fist bumping started out the same way. Apparently some monologue or other had contained a digression about 'p9tentially triggering vi9lent c9nn9tati9ns' and the temptation was too much for a five-sweep-old to resist. The look on Kankri's face was, admittedly, pretty funny but Karkat missed the prim little handshakes. Those were fucking adorable.

No expression, however funny, could make up for a smuppet first thing in the evening.

 

**The present:**

 

The second playdate is less fraught than the first. There's less Kankri, for one thing, and Vriska has whisked John away again, so it's just Karkat, Dirk and Roxy meeting Eridan and Dave for sweetener-enhanced frozen butlercream about eleven nights later. Dave looks less like a diminutive ghost than before; the bones are still too pronounced but there's color to his face and his eyes are just a little brighter, less shadowed. Karkat offers an actual smile to him and Eridan both when he sees him.

The kid is still too quiet, but Roxy pries at him with her usual efficiency and Dirk reigns her in when she risks overwhelming him and while his kids are occupied with that, Karkat shifts closer to Eridan and says, “He looks good.”

Eridan tears his eyes away from the faint lip twitch Roxy has dragged out of Dave (she's calling Dirk a square again, who even says that) and looks into Karkat's eyes, face fairly shining with pride. Karkat hasn't seen his earfins this full in – ever, perhaps. It's nice to see.

“You think?” he asks. “I picked out his outfit myself. Cronus got him some tacky as fuck pleather jacket but – ”

“I meant healthier, dumbass,” Karkat interrupts, but there's no venom to it. “As for his clothes – ” He looks again to make sure and, yeah, they're just clothes. Dark washed jeans and a purple hoodie, with red sneakers that make Karkat want to wince for personal reasons. Everything fits properly, which he supposes is good. “I'm just glad you restrained yourself from putting him in a cape.”

Eridan snorts.

“D'ya know how much a decent cape costs?” he asks. “I ain't wastin' the money, not when he's so small he'll grow outta it in a perigee.”

“That's surprisingly sensible of you,” Dirk puts in. Eridan gives him a dramatic frown, nose wrinkling.

Dave looks from Dirk to Eridan and says, “You're being like Cronus. Stop.”

“Ugh.” Eridan shakes his head but stops making faces. “I am not. I ain't leerin' an' such. But you oughta tell your buddy Dirk to mind his gogdamn manners with me.”

Attention is all on Dave as he considers this. His eyes – not as wide as they'd been on movie night, but not half-lidded, either – move from Eridan to Dirk and back the settle on Dirk.

“Dirk's cool,” he announces. Eridan's earfins droop but perk up again as he continues. “But be nice to Eridan. He's getting me a cape.”

Eridan beams while Roxy laughs. Dirk asks, “Do you really want a cape?”

“Uh-huh,” Dave says. “I want a red cape, like my shoes. Red is cool, too.” He assesses Dirk's tangerine colored t-shirt. “Why don't you wear red?”

“Because,” Dirk tells him, “I wear orange. See?” And, with not a trace of hesitation, he lowers his ocular shields to meet Dave's eyes straight on. Their color is more vivid than his shirt, more vivid than the midpoint of a troll's horns, and they'd be startling even Karkat saw them every day; he empathizes with Eridan's in-drawn breath.

“You like red because of your eyes, right?” Dirk is saying. “They make it, like, your color. Well, mine are orange, so I wear orange. And Roxy wears pink, see?”

Dave looks at him, taking careful note of the sweater that is, in fact, almost as pink as Roxy's eyes.

“Oh,” he says. “Okay, I see.” He hesitates, then adds, “Red is still cooler.”

Dirk snorts and gently ruffles Dave's pale hair.

“Think that all you like, little dude,” he says. “Orange is rad.”

Battle is thus joined. And as Karkat sits there, listening to his kid and Eridan's debate the merits of their chosen colors, Roxy joining in and hopping sides and laughing, he remembers that day in Dirk's lab, reading Ampora's panicked texts and being berated for one more thing he can't change.

 _“It's gross as fuck you guys keep as pets,”_ Dirk had said and then, as now, when Karkat looked at him, he knew it was true and also not true.

 _In name only,_ he thinks, and then looks at Dave, remembers his little voice saying, _“Strider.”_ and the stricken look flashing in Dirk's ever-blank face.

 _In name,_ he thinks again, and it's no longer a comforting thought.

 

Back at Karkat's hive, Eridan makes noises about leaving, holding a food-sleepy Dave in his arms in the nutrition block. Dirk waves the idea away.

“Nah, stick around,” he says. “There's something we needed to talk to you about.”

Karkat turns from the coffee maker and catches Dirk's eye through the ocular shields.

_You or me?_

Dirk taps his own chest. Karkat nods.

“What kinda thing?” Eridan asks, and gives up Dave with some reluctance when Dirk approaches with out-stretched hands. Dave has no such qualms and snuggles at once into Dirk's chest, a smile chasing across his face.

“That will appear,” Dirk says, attention on Dave. “Have a seat, Ampora.”

Eridan looks at Karkat, who's watching out of the corner of his eye.

“Just sit,” Karkat says. “We're not going to fucking dissect you.”

Eridan scowls but sits, arms and legs crossing and uncrossing then crossing again, as if unsure what to with no baby to support.

“Coffee?” Karkat asks.

“Eh, why not?”

As Karkat is retrieving three handled beverage containers from the storage cube, he hears Dirk saying, “It's about that science me and Dave did last time.”

Other than to answer the occasional aside from Eridan (“You know he was doin' genetic testin' on my baby?” “I assumed, yeah.” “The fuck didn't you say anythin'?” “Shut the fuck up and listen.”) Karkat stays quiet and lets Dirk do the talking. He serves the coffee – no sweetening agent for Dirk, this time – and sits at the consumption surface with them, watching the expressions flicker across Eridan's face, wondering how much of this Dave is getting.

“Fifty percent?” Eridan asks after a while. “Only fifty?”

“Yes, I know, you and Cronus share something like ninety. Human genetics are different.”

Eridan is more interested in the ensuing lecture than Karkat was. He is the science guy, sort of. Karkat's just the romcom guy.

“So what you're sayin',” Eridan says, at the end, “is that you an' my Davey are, what, hatchmates?”

“That would be the troll equivalent, yes. Yes?”

This latter is addressed to Dave, who has begun tugging on Dirk's t-shirt. He's looking a little more awake.

“You looked at my DNA?” Dave asks, very serious.

“Sort of,” Dirk tells him. “My friend looked at it. He sent me what he found.”

“Was it cool?”

Something of a smile flickers across Dirk's face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Totally cool.” He glances at Eridan and Karkat, then back at Dave. “You and me, our DNA matches. We've got the same kind of cool in us.”

Dave's eyes widen. “Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Dirk nods and runs a hand through the kid's hair, like he can't quite resist the urge. “That makes us special. It means that we're bros, now, you and me.”

“Bros,” Dave says.

“Yeah, bros. What do you think of that?”

Dave looks concerned, like he wants to ask something else, but after a moment the expression melts into a sweet smile. He fists his hands in the front of Dirk's shirt and says, “Awesome.”

 

“Huh,” Eridan says. He's looking away from Karkat to where Dirk is showing Dave around his workstation, holding one small hand firmly in his own. Dirk's hair is more yellow, Dave's complexion a little fairer, but they have the same cheekbones, the same profile under Dave's babyish softness, the remnant of Dirk's own. The similarity of their slim builds is already evident, despite the difference in size.

“I never knew humans had hatchmates,” he says, after a moment. “Never knew much about where they come from, though. Sounds nasty.”

“Is it,” Karkat says, though he doesn't know much beyond 'mammals'. “Fucking revolting. And they're called siblings, not hatchmates. They don't hatch.”

Eridan looks over, frowning.

“Then how in hell – nah, forget it. I don't wanna know. Siblings?”

“That's the generic term. Males are brothers. 'Bro' is a shortened form. Dirk might have made it up, fuck if I know. Females are sisters. Roxy's got a sister. And I think Vriska figured out that Jane, Meenah and Feferi's kid, is John's sister.”

“Their second names are different, though. John's Egbert and Fef's is C- somethin'.”

“Crocker, yeah,” Karkat says. “There are other ways to tell, fuck if I understand it, shit's too weird for me.”

“Where'd you find Roxy's – sister?”

“Kanaya has her.” Karkat almost honest-to-gog smiles. “Rose. Creepy little blond, like yours. Roxy fucking clung to her when we introduced them. Picked her up and wouldn't put her the fuck down for a fucking hour. Impressive fucking display of muscular endurance but a tiny fucking bit unfuckingnecessary. We weren't going to take her away.”

“Six,” Dirk calls over.

Karkat flips him off. Eridan looks between them and says, “What was that?”

“Nothing. Just Dirk being a shit. He's at that age, ignore him.”

Eridan snorts. “Fine by me. How old is Rose?”

“Dave's age. Maybe a little older. Didn't seem to mind the clinging or thinkpan-shattering squeals. She just fell asleep on her. It was – fucking cute, fuck, I'll admit that shit was sweet enough to cause of blood sugar imbalance requiring corrective insulin injections.”

“This shit's cute,” Eridan says, eyes on Dirk again. Dirk, who is – sitting at his computer, Dave cuddled in his lap. He's observing the screen with wide, red eyes as Dirk – Dirk draws. He's got his tablet out and is drawing something for him. As they watch, he offers the stylus to Dave to try out.

“This shit's fucking unbearable,” Karkat mutters.

Dirk's head dips forward. Karkat is pretty sure he's laughing at them.

“Asshole,” he says and if Dirk hadn't turned his head just then he might have seen the fleeting edges of a smile.

 

Eridan and Dave end up staying late to watch the next Troll Lord of the Rings movie. Roxy, who'd vanished to give them privacy, rejoins them, hauling Sollux, who puts on a reasonable show of reluctance until the ents appear. The ents are fucking awesome. Dirk takes the seating unit with Eridan, this time, and Dave keeps crawling between their laps, which is adorable, if a little distracting. He can't seem to decide whether his bro or his lusus is most in need of his company. Karkat sits on the floor between them; Sollux is back in the single seat unit. Roxy starts out perched on the arm, but migrates to sit at his feet half-way through and promptly begins snoring.

“Karkat,” Dirk says, once their guests are gone and Sollux has hauled Roxy off to bed. Karkat, busy clearing cushions from the floor and grubcorn from the carpet, grunts. 

After a moment: “ _Karkat._ ”

It's louder, as close to raising his voice as Dirk ever gets, and Karkat looks over at him, reverie lost.

“What?” he says.

Dirk takes a step further into the rec block. “Karkat,” he says again. “The situation is now critical. It was pretty fucking dire before but we have now hit the point of no return. There is a new variable in play and now shit has to change. Shit is not okay, Karkat. Shit is not remotely okay.”

“Dirk,” Karkat says. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The situation.” Dirk takes another step forward. “This fucking situation. The situation where shit is not okay. And you know shit is not okay. And I know you know shit is not okay. But I don't press you to change shit because shit might be bad but shit is not critical. Except – shit just. Got. Critical.”

“Dirk.”

“My brother,” Dirk says. “My little brother. Dave. He is a baby, Karkat. It was maybe tolerable when it just me. Roxy. Jane. It wasn't okay but I could deal with it. I could handle it. I could wait. But my brother. My little brother. Will not. Be anyone's. Gog. Damned. _Pet._.”

He tears off his shades and meets Karkat's eyes, fiery orange to mottled red-grey. Karkat sighs.

“Shit is not okay,” he agrees, at length. “Shit needs to change.”

“Shit will change,” Dirk corrects.

Karkat nods.

“Shit will change,” he says. “Okay. Fuck. Okay. Fuck, I should – we better – talk to people. I'll troll Nepeta and Vriska You go get on with Jane to sound out Feferi and Meenah. We'll talk to Sollux and Roxy in the evening and maybe get Tavros and Rufioh on board, too. We'll have a council of war here in two nights. Good enough?”

There's a ghost of a smile on Dirk's face. He looks warmer with it.

“For a start,” he says and moves as though to leave. But then he flashsteps and Karkat is being hugged, hard.

“Gk,” Karkat says, and hugs back, just as tight.

“Thanks,” Dirk tells his neck.

“No problem,” Karkat wheezes.

And in another flash, Dirk is gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Exactly twenty-one nights after Cronus Ampora picks him up off the cold alley ground, Dave Strider tears up.

He's fighting it – Eridan can see him fighting it and a broken bloodpusher wars with absolute panic for supremacy in his feelings. The conflict delays him reacting for the three seconds necessary for a full, fat tear (no proper color, just water, but Eridan knows the rudiments of human biology and Eridan really knows tears) to slip out onto pale eyelashes and drip onto a pinked cheek.

Dave bats it away and hunches in on himself in his seat at the nutrition block consumption surface.

“S-Sorry,” he says and his voice is so soft, so small that the bloodpusher break wins, victory total and complete, all other contestants go the fuck home.

Eridan goes to him and drops to his knees by the seating unit, reaching a hesitant hand that Dave dodges in what looks more like a flinch than an actual muscular command. 

“S-Sorry,” he says again but Eridan doesn't repeat the gesture.

“Wha – Wha – What?” he says. “D-Davey, what – ? What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt or somethin'? Dave? Dave, please tell me what's wrong.”

Dave shakes his head, still fisting tears from his face. He's muttering little apologies, cringing away, cheeks flushed bright, and the tears are still flowing, flowing faster if anything, no end in sight and Eridan cannot, he just cannot, just cannot deal with this without – 

_Fuck it._

He fucking hugs him.

He grabs Dave from his seat and hauls him in, grimacing at the little yelp of terror, at the rigidity of the small body in his arms and just hugs him. He holds Dave against himself, clings to him, mutters nonsense to him, comforting nonsense, tries to tell him that it's okay, everything all right, it's going to be fine, tries to reassure him, to ask what's wrong, to beg him not to cry but he's kind of freaking out himself, now, and it all comes in fragments, phrases and half-words that run into and over one another until he gives up and just shooshes his human. Eridan shooshes him for a long while.

 

 

Karkat starts with Nepeta, since he figures she'll be the easiest sell. Jake is Dirk and Roxy's age, old enough for a human's intelligence to be obvious to even the most stubbornly hidebound of trolls – which Nepeta isn't – whether that human is a Dirkian genius or not – which Jake isn't. Karkat would, in fact, be tempted to call Jake an idiot if there weren't something kind of – staged, almost – about his stupider outbursts. It's like he's acting out some role he thinks he has to play and can't get it quite right. Or maybe like the world isn't getting their part right and he's desperate to salvage the show.

Whatever. Dirk likes the kid – was even flushed for him, once, which was funny as hell – so he can't be a total moron.

And then there's Jade. She's younger, about four sweeps, and doesn't really live with Nepeta. She's kind of feral, has a pawbeast friend-protector-lusus and they just hang out with Nepeta and Jake, or sleep in the cave with them during storms. Nepeta claims them so animal control won't come after them but Jade is her own human, more than any Karkat has ever known.

So, no. He doesn't think Nepeta will be a hard sell.

CarcincoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

CG: NEPETA.  
CG: I NEED A WORD.  
AC: :33 < *the furrocious jungle cat sniffs curiously, wondering what business this loud, squishy creature could have with fur*  
AC: :33 < *and whether he has any gross, stringy bits to get caught in her mighty teeth*  
CG: OH, FOR  
CG: MUST WE? NOW?  
CG: OKAY, WHATEVER, FINE.  
CG: THE LOUD CREATURE, WHO IS NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT SQUISHY, HE IS PURE MUSCLE AND MANGRIT AND FUCK YOU VERY MUCH FOR IMPLYING OTHERWISE, WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH THE RIDICULOUS TROLL GIRL PURRTENDING TO BE A MEOWBEAST ABOUT SOMETHING THAT IS KIND OF FUCKING IMPORTANT NOW, PLEASE.  
CG: I EVEN PUT IN A PUN, JUST FOR YOU. I WILL HAVE TO DECONTAMINATE MY HANDS AND HUSKTOP AND POSSIBLY CHANGE MY HANDLE TO DISTANCE MYSELF FROM THE HUMILIATION BUT IT'S A SACRIFICE I'M WILLING TO MAKE. CAN WE JUST TALK NOW?  
AC: :33 < *the mighty kitty licks her chops, considering*  
AC: :33< okay, i guess. but only because you said purrtending.  
AC: :33 < what's going on? you don't usually troll me.  
AC: :DD < not that i'm complaining!  
CG: DIRK AND I HAVE DECIDED  
CG: WELL, DIRK HAS DECIDED, REALLY, BUT I'M GOING ALONG WITH IT SO IT AMOUNTS TO THE SAME.  
CG: DIRK AND I HAVE DECIDED THAT NOW WOULD BE AN IDEAL TIME FOR AN ILL-ADVISED AND PROBABLY WORSE-FATED STAB AT BECOMING SOCIAL REVOLUTIONARIES, MORE SPECIFICALLY, REVOLUTIONARIES FOR THE CAUSE OF CIVIL RIGHTS AND PERSONHOOD FOR HUMANS.  
CG: WE'RE CALLING A MEETING FOR ALL THOSE PAN-ADDLED ENOUGH TO ALIGN THEMSELVES WITH US AT OUR HIVE, TWO NIGHTS FROM NOW.  
CG: ARE YOU AND JAKE IN?  
AC: :33 < of purrourse! silly karkitty, thinking we might not be.  
AC: :33 < to tell the truth, we purr mewing about something of the kind recently but purrn't sure how to go about starting it.  
AC: : // < i'm not really the leader type.  
AC: :33 < but i'm sure you'll do great, karkat! we're compurrletely with you!  
AC: :33 < oh, can jade and becqueral come, too?  
CG: SURE, WHY NOT. THE FERAL CHILD AND HER PROBABLY-RABID PAWBEAST COMPANION CAN JOIN IN. I FEEL OUR CREDIBILITY CREEPING STEADILY SKYWARD.  
CG: SIX PM ALL RIGHT WITH YOU?  
AC: :33 < see you then, karkitty!  
CG: LATER, NEPETA. THANKS.

Yup. Not a hard sell at all. Now for Vriska.

CG: HEY, VRISKA.  
CG: WE'RE GETTING TOGETHER A GROUP TO CAMPAIGN FOR CIVIL RIGHTS FOR HUMANS.  
CG: IT WILL PROBABLY INVOLVE SHOUTING, CHAOS, CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE AND FIGHTING THE POWER. THERE MAY BE BLOODSHED.  
CG: MEETING TOMORROW AT MY PLACE TO GET THINGS MOVING.  
CG: YOU IN?  
AG: sounds gr8!!!!!!!!  
AG: now stop troooolllling me, i'm 8usy!  
CG: OKAY, THANKS. SEE YOU TOMORROW.  
AG: l8r!

Well. That was easy. Now for Tavros.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT]

CG: TAVROS.  
CG: WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON HUMAN PERSONHOOD?  
AT: i AM NOT SURE, wHAT YOU MEAN,  
CG: PERSONHOOD.  
CG: CIVIL RIGHTS.  
CG: HUMANS AN A SPECIES INTELLECTUALLY AND EMOTIONALLY EQUAL TO TROLLS AND THUS ENTITLES TO EQUIVALENT FUCKING LEGAL STATUS.  
CG: IS ANY OF THIS SINKING IN OR DO I NEED TO ELABORATE FURTHER?  
AT: tHAT IS SUFFICIENT, i THINK,  
AT: aND I ALSO THINK, tHAT ALL OF THAT IS CORRECT, aND THAT SOMETHING, uH, oUGHT TO BE DONE ABOUT IT,  
CG: COOL. HOW ABOUT RUFIOH? WHERE DOES HE STAND?  
AT: rUFIOH, aGREES WITH ME, i THINK,  
AT: cAN I ASK WHY?  
CG: DIRK AND I HAVE DISCUSSED THE SITUATION AND WE THINK IT'S HOOFBEASTSHIT.  
CG: THE CURRENT SITUATION, I MEAN, WHERE WE'RE KEEPING INTELLIGENT, SENTIENT BEINGS AS PETS. THAT'S THE PART THAT'S SHIT.  
AT: iT IS PRETTY AWFUL, yES,  
CG: WE'RE GETTING SOME PEOPLE TOGETHER AT OUT HIVE TO TALK ABOUT MAKING IT LESS AWFUL.  
CG: ME, DIRK, SOLLUX AND ROXY, NEPETA AND JAKE, JADE AND HER DEVILBEAST.  
CG: AND VRISKA, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO HER.  
AT: i, uH, aPPRECIATE THAT, sEEING AS SITTING NEXT TO HER, oR, uH, eXISTING NEAR HER HAS NOT GONE WELL FOR ME, hISTORICALLY SPEAKING,  
AT: wHEN IS THIS, gATHERING?  
CG: SIX, TWO NIGHTS FROM NOW.  
CG: BRING RUFIOH, IF HE WANTS TO COME.  
AT: hOW ABOUT, uH, gAMZEE?  
CG: IF HE'S INTERESTED, SURE.  
AT: i WILL ASK, aND SEE,  
AT: i WILL BE THERE, iN ANY CASE,  
AT: sHOULD I BRING FOOD, oR ANYTHING?  
CG: I'M COOKING BUT YOU COULD BRING DESSERT, IF YOU WANT.  
CG: JUST NOT PIE. NOTHING PERSONAL, BUT I COULD NEVER TRUST A PIE FROM YOUR HIVE.  
AT: oKAY, tHAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE, i THINK,  
AT: i WILL MAKE CUPCAKES, mAYBE,  
CG: CUPCAKES ARE ACCEPTABLE.  
CG: THANKS, TAVROS. SEE YOU THEN.  
TA: oKAY, sEE YOU,

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]

Okay, good. Well done, Karkat. Well fucking done.

Kanaya isn't on line so he fires off an e-mail then checks the time in the corner of the screen. Putting off the inevitable, he thinks through his scanty store of acquaintances, wondering who else they can get on board.

Feferi – Dirk's working on Jane, which has her and Meenah.

There's Terezi, who Karkat hasn't talked to in perigees. He has no idea how she feels about humans in general, though she seemed pretty taken with Roxy the few times he heard of them interacting. Maybe he'll ask Vriska – no, Sollux. Sollux would be a better idea. Sollux, who will be told, not asked, to join in, and will be fine with it. Karkat kind of suspects he was just waiting for this to get started. Like Nepeta, he's not really the leader type.

Equius – hah.

Kankri wouldn't know actual injustice if it bit his bulge off; see Dirk for a practical demonstration. Karkat might consider breaking into his hive to hunt for whatever animal rights resources he has lying around, if the sheer volume of shit in there weren't so huge – and if the asshole ever left. Whatever, that's what the internet is for.

Gamzee? Fuck. Maybe later.

Aradia is Sollux's. She lives halfway across the planet, anyway.

There are the older trolls – his friends' hatchmates. He can leave Meulin to Nepeta and Porrim to Kanaya and so on. As for the others – the ones who don't have convenient relatives already on board – When he finds himself seriously considering Latula's screenname, he bonks his head on the desk. Now he is just stalling.

Okay, that's it. Sollux and Roxy will be back soon and he has to do this before Dirk is ready for their inevitable hive powwow. He has to do this. He has to – troll Eridan.

He has no idea how this is going to go.

CG: ERIDAN.  
CG: A WORD.  
CA: karkat!  
CA: thank cod  
CA: i wwas gonna flip it wwasnt you  
CA: if it wwere anybody else id havve flipped  
CA: but youre all right  
CA: wwe got a situation here kar  
CG: YEAH, I COULD TELL. WHAT'S THE SITUATION?

_Coward,_ the Dirk voice in his brain points out.

Firmly, he flips it off.

CA: davvie started cryin  
CG: THEN WHY ARE YOU RESPONDING TO ME AND NOT DEALING WITH YOUR DISTRAUGHT HUMAN, FUCKASS? JEGUS SHIT AND HERE I WAS THINKING MAYBE YOU WEREN'T QUITE AS PANADDLED AS PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE SEEMED TO SUGGEST. TEACH ME TO GIVE THE BENEFIT OF DOUBT, I HAVE SEEN THE FUCKING LIGHT. HENCEFORTH MY DOUBTS SHALL BENEFIT NO ONE.  
CA: hes stopped noww he fell asleep on me  
CA: wwore himself out i guess  
CA: it wwas fuckin scary though  
CA: he just kept shakin and apologizin  
CA: like a few fuckin tears are anythin to be sorry for  
CA: and he aint evver done that before  
CA: and he looked so scared  
CG: WAIT.  
CA: freaked the fuck out wwhen i hugged him  
CA: wwhat  
CG: BACK UP.  
CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT IN THE THREE WEEKS THAT WIGGLER HAS BEEN LIVING IN YOUR HIVE, YOU'VE NEVER SEEN HIM CRY?  
CG: NOT ONCE?  
CA: no, nevver  
CG: OKAY.  
CG: THAT IS FUCKING WEIRD, AMPORA.  
CA: i know  
CG: DO YOU? DO YOU REALLY FUCKING KNOW HOW FUCKING WEIRD THAT IS?  
CA: wwigglers cry i knoww that  
CA: he nevver did so i just thought maybe he didnt  
CA: but lookin back  
CG: YES, LOOK BACK, BY ALL MEANS.  
CG: LOOK BACK AND TELL ME YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKED UP THAT IS.  
CG: SWEET GREEN ZOMBIE FUCKS, DIRK CRIED AT THAT AGE.  
CA: do you think someone maybe did somethin to him  
CA: before he wwas out on the street  
CA: like maybe he had a home an they punished him for cryin or somesuch  
CG: I THINK THAT TO BE AN EXTREMELY FUCKING LIKELY SCENARIO.  
CG: BRILLIANT DEDUCTION, A PLUS, GOLD FUCKING STAR.  
CG: WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM? IS HE ASLEEP NOW?  
CA: yeah wwere sittin on the nurtition block floor  
CA: he wwas just cryin so hard i feel sick thinkin about it so  
CA: i hugged him  
CA: an told him it wwould be okay  
CA: an he just cried himself out  
CA: took a fuckin wwhile though my ass is numb  
CG: DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR ASS, AMPORA. MY INTEREST IN YOUR ASS IS LESS THAN NONE. I HAVE NEGATIVE INTEREST IN THE STATE OF YOUR ASS.  
CG: FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, THOUGH, I THINK YOU DID EXACTLY THE RIGHT THING. I'D SUGGEST MOVING, THOUGH, IF YOU CAN MANAGE IT WITHOUT WAKING HIM UP.  
CG: THAT'S NOT AN IDEAL PLACE FOR A NAP.  
CA: i wwas just about to take him to the rec block wwhen you trolled  
CG: GOOD. DO THAT.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE CRYING ABOUT ANYWAY?  
CA: wwere outta apple juice  
CA: he doesnt like grape  
CA: i just trolled cronus to pick some up  
CG: . . .  
CG: MY REACTION TO THIS NEWS CAN ONLY BE REPRESENTED BY A SERIES OF POINTS INDICATING GRAMMATICAL FULL STOPS.  
CG: DAVE HAS BROKEN WHAT WAS MOST LIKELY TRAUMA-INDUCED EMOTIONAL STONEWALL WITH STRENGTH ENOUGH TO PREVENT HIM REACTING TO ANY OF THE SERIES OF BIZARRE HAPPENINGS HIS LIFE HAS BEEN MADE UP OF OVER THE PAST MONTH FOR THE PURPOSE OF REGISTERING HIS DISPLEASURE OVER THE FLAVOR OF JUICE HE WAS OFFERED WITH HIS EVENING MEAL.  
CG: THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE TELLING ME.  
CA: kid likes his apple juice i don't judge  
CG: FUCKING HA.  
CA: i dont judge that  
CA: partial to grape myself but everyones entitled to an opinion  
CA: even if their opinions gross  
CG: YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND HOW HARD I AM NOW LAUGHING AT YOU.  
CG: NO TEXTUAL REPRESENTATION OF MIRTH WILL SUFFICE TO EXPRESS THE HILARITY OF WHAT YOU JUST SAID.  
CG: OH MY GOG.  
CG: THIS IS AWESOME.  
CG: JUICE IS THE ONE SUBJECT CAPABLE OF CIRCUMVENTING YOUR ADAMANTIUM-REINFORCED BULLSHIT SUPERIORITY COMPLEX. ON THIS AND THIS ALONE YOU WILL ALLOW CIVIL AND EQUAL DISAGREEMENT.  
CG: ON THIS AND THIS ALONE YOUR WIGGLER FEELS STRONGLY ENOUGH TO BREAK CONDITIONING AND THROW A FIT IF HE DOESN'T GET HIS WAY.  
CG: STRANGE TROLL GRABS HIM FROM HIS HIDING PLACE AND HAULS HIM OFF TO DESTINATION UNKNOWN? NO REACTION. TROLL AND EQUALLY UNKNOWN ASSOCIATE STRIP HIM NAKED AND WASH HIM WITH INCOMPETENCE SUFFICIENT TO DRIP CLEANING SOLUTION IN HIS GANDERBULBS? NO RESPONSE. STRANGE HUMAN ABSCONDS WITH HIM TO PROCURE SAMPLES OF HIS DNA? STILL NOTHING.  
CG: BUT HIS GUARDIAN SERVES THE WRONG KIND OF JUICE WITH HIS POACHED PROTEIN NODULES?  
CG: TANTRUM TIME.  
CG: THIS IS BEAUTIFUL. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MOTHERFUCKING BEAUTIFUL THIS IS?  
CG: DO YOU?  
CG: AMPORA?  
CG: JEGUS FUCK, DON'T TELL ME I SENT YOU INTO A SULK.  
CG: AMPORA.  
CG: ERIDAN?  
CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?  
CA: right here  
CA: fucks alivve cant a felloww carry his wwiggler to bed wwithout a text storm  
CG: DON'T LEAVE HIM ALONE.  
CA: im not im in my respite block he has a platform in here from wwhen he wwas sick  
CA: nevver bothered takin it out wwhen wwe set up his block  
CA: wwhat wword did you need  
CG: WHAT?  
CA: wwhen you trolled you said needed a wword  
CG: OH. THAT.  
CA: wwhats up  
CA: kar  
CG: I'M NOT REALLY SURE HOW TO START THIS.  
CA: givvin me some idea a wwhat its about wwould be good  
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.  
CG: UGH.  
CG: OKAY.  
CG: DO YOU REMEMBER THAT CONVERSATION WE HAD ABOUT DAVE AND DIRK BEING BROTHERS?  
CA: it wwas twwo days ago kar i aint that panaddled  
CG: JUST CHECKING, GOG.  
CG: STOP INTERRUPTING, ASS STAIN, THIS IS WEIRD ENOUGH WITHOUT YOUR CONSTANT INTERJECTIONS.  
CA: noww hold up there you asked me a question  
CA: i wwas just answwering it  
CG: FINE, SORRY, CAN WE JUST MOVE WITH THIS, PLEASE?  
CA: im wwaitin for you  
CG: FUCK YOU, TOO.  
CG: ANYWAY, DIRK AND I HAD A CONVERSATION AFTER YOU GUYS LEFT.  
CG: ACTUALLY, IT WAS MORE OF AN ULTIMATUM. DIRK'S ULTIMATUM. BUT I AGREE WITH HIM.  
CG: SHIT IS NOT OKAY.  
CA: wwhats not okay  
CA: kar  
CG: HOW DO YOU FEEL WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT DAVE?  
CA: wwhat  
CG: HOW DO YOU FEEL WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT DAVE? AND ABOUT PEOPLE MISTREATING HIM SO BADLY IT TOOK A MONTH FOR HIM TO DARE SHED A TEAR IN FRONT OF YOU?  
CA: it wwas a sight more than one tear  
CG: ERIDAN.  
CA: angry then  
CA: angry is how i feel about it pissed right the fuck off  
CA: nobody should do that to a kid  
CA: hes so fuckin little kar I cant evven imagine wwhat it musta been like  
CA: or howw anyone could  
CA: is there a point to this or are you just tryin to upset me  
CG: DO YOU THINK HE'S A CHILD?  
CA: course hes a child fuckin look at him  
CG: DO YOU THINK WHOEVER HURT HIM HAS ABUSED A CHILD?  
CA: fuck yes  
CG: BUT HE'S HUMAN.  
CA: so  
CG: HE'S NOT A TROLL, AMPORA. HE CAN'T BE A CHILD IF HE'S NOT A TROLL. HE'S NOT EVEN A PERSON.  
CA: fuck that wwith somethin big an rusty  
CG: SO YOU THINK HE'S A PERSON. ARE ALL HUMANS PEOPLE?  
CG: IF THEY ARE, HOW CAN WE JUSTIFY KEEPING THEM AS PETS?  
CG: AMPORA?  
CG: ERIDAN?  
CA: i gotta think about this

caligulasAquarium [CA] has logged off.

Karkat sits back in his chair, lets out a held breath and forces his shoulders to relax.

He's done all he can.


	8. Chapter 8

ERIDAN – 

IF YOU CAN PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR NOOK LONG ENOUGH TO READ THIS, I WANTED TO APOLOGIZE FOR SPRINGING THE HUMAN PERSONHOOD THING ON YOU LIKE THAT. IN RETROSPECT, THERE WAS PROBABLY A MORE TACTFUL WAY TO GO ABOUT IT. FURTHER FUCK-UP POINTS AWARDED TO PAST KARKAT FOR BEING THE MOST INSENSITIVE DOUCHE EVER TO DOUCHE. I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHATEVER INTERNAL TURMOIL YOU'RE GOING THROUGH, RIGHT NOW, SO DO ME A SOLID AND DON'T TAKE IT OUT ON DAVE. IT'S NOT HIS FAULT I'M A MASSIVE FUCK-UP.

IF YOU'RE INTERESTED, WE'RE HAVING A MEETING AT SIX TONIGHT TO TRY AND START AN ORGANIZATION FOR HUMAN RIGHTS. WE'D BE HAPPY TO HAVE YOU AND DAVE. WHAT THE HELL, WE'LL TAKE CRONUS IF HE PROMISES TO LIMIT HIS MACKING TO BEFORE AND AFTER BUSINESS IS CONDUCTED. (I WON'T BOTHER ASKING HIM TO FOREGO MACKING ENTIRELY AS I'M BEING REASONABLE AND SENSITIVE TO HIS DISABILITY. SEE HOW REASONABLE AND SENSITIVE I'M BEING? CONSIDER IT PART OF MY CONTINUING APOLOGY FOR MY PREVIOUS LACK OF REASON OR SENSE.)

E-MAIL ME BACK, IF JUST TO ASSURE ME I DIDN'T BREAK YOUR BRAIN PERMANENTLY.

KARKAT

 

Kanaya comes by early, around four, with Rose in her arms and Porrim at her side. Karkat barely has the entry portal open before Roxy comes squealing down the staircase behind him and launches herself at them. She breaks in time to avoid a collision, but it's a near thing. It's annoying, if not surprising, but her pink eyes are shining like twin stars and her smile is on the sweet side of manic, so Karkat doesn't do more than grumble, “Fucking _careful_ , Lalonde,” before inviting the amused Maryams inside.

Roxy shuffles anxiously back for them, eyes on Rose as she says, “Kanaya, Porrim, hey, so you made it for this rad get-together.”

“Yes.” Kanaya offers a smile to her and then Karkat. “Thank you for having us.”

“Pleasure's ours, yo.” Dirk is on the stairs – not descending, just loitering, arms folded, hip cocked.

“Yeah,” Karkat agrees, eying his posture in distaste. “Thanks for coming.”

“I'll just take that for you,” Roxy says and reaches for Rose, who Kanaya surrenders without fuss.

“Hiya, Rosie!” Roxy says and fairly skips toward the rec block without another thought to the gathered trolls.

Dirk has come down to stand at Karkat's side and offers a closed fist to Kanaya and Porrim in turn. They exchange bumps, still smiling.

“Kanaya. Miss Maryam.”

“Hello, Dirk.”

“Mr. Strider. You can call me Porrim, you know.”

“Then it's Dirk. Just bein' polite.” Karkat snorts. Dirk ignores him. “I don't think we were properly introduced, since Karkat here human-napped me.”

“Liberated,” Karkat says. “Though you're welcome to pack your shit back to Kankri's any time, asswipe.”

Dirk continues to ignore him.

“I know you're a friend of Kankri's but you're an intelligent woman and I think you agree this arrangement is better for everyone, Karkat's histrionics aside.”

“We would have had words if I didn't,” Porrim tells him, with a determined little smile. “Believe me.

“I have no doubt.” Dirk nods once. “Can we offer you ladies some coffee?”

“Yes, please, that would be lovely,” Porrim says.

“Kanaya?”

“No, thank you. I would like to borrow Karkat, if that's all right with you.”

Ignoring, yet again, an indignant sputter, Dirk says, “Go right ahead. I'm not using him.”

He offers Porrim his arm, saying, “This way, madam,” and she takes it with a laugh. As he leads her to the nutrition block, Kanaya slips her own arm through Karkat's and tugs.

“Come on,” she says. “Lawn ring. We can troll Sollux from there.”

 

There's an outdoor recreation area triple seating unit on the lawn ring, a relic from Dirk's first sweep or two in the hive, back when he needed supervision to play outside. It was the sight of more than one bloodpusher attack when his tree-climbing became particularly adventurous.

Karkat and Kanaya settle themselves on it, him facing forward, her with one leg curled up on the seat so she can see him. She's wearing pants, today, green slacks only a shade closer to jade than olive, and Karkat wonders if she dressed with that move in mind. He fires off a message to Sollux – HEY, SHITNOOK, WE'RE ON THE LAWN RING. GET DOWN HERE ON PAIN OF KANAYA. – and says, “All right, we're here. What is it?”

“I'd have thought that would be obvious,” Kanaya says and brushes back an overlong lock of hair that's fallen in her jade-touched eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

Karkat eyes her.

“Because humans are people,” he says, “and I think it's hoofbeastshit they aren't treated like it. Why the fuck are you even here if you don't agree with me?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she says, frowning. “You know I do. Why are you doing this now? Is what I meant. Dirk has been pestering you about it for sweeps.”

“Don't remind me.” Karkat thinks of a hundred unpleasant confrontations and winces. “I'm doing my best to wipe all memory of those conversations from my thinkpan, except insofar as they'll be useful if I ever have to argue the point with anyone as dense as past me. What makes you think he didn't just wear me down? I always knew we'd end up here eventually. I was just putting it off.”

“Becauthe you're Karkat,” Sollux volunteers from above them. Karkat squawks and flails while Kanaya merely twitches and darts her gaze up. He's lounging in the air just above and behind them, held aloft by a sparkle of psionics, looking so pleased with himself it there ought to have been laws against it. Karkat has choked on his surprise and coughs curses at him. Sollux laughs and wafts over to lie in the grass in front of them. He looks very bright, eyes ashimmer, teeth on display.

“Oh, gog,” Karkat says. “What did you do?”

“What maketh you think I did anything?”

Karkat aims a kick that barely comes close to hitting him.

“That smug fucking smile, for one thing.”

“Oh, thith old thing? Jutht thomething I threw on.”

“That is – ” Kanaya hesitates. “Highly unlikely.”

“Hoofbeastshit,” Karkat says. “Hoofbeastshit is the word you're looking for. Don't worry, Kanaya, I got you.”

“Thank you so much.”

Sollux laughs.

“It'th true, though,” he says. “ _I_ didn't do anything.”

Karkat sighs. “Okay, smartass, what did _Roxy_ do?”

“She blew up my huthktop.”

He looks so happy, so fucking proud to be legal owner of an exploded husktop and a pyromaniacal human, Karkat can't help snorting, then smiling, then full on laughing. He buries snickers in his hands and leaves it for Kanaya to ask, “Shouldn't you be more upset about the loss of your husktop?”

“Nah.” Karkat can see him shaking his head, the twist of little horns and the breezy flutter of dark hair, though his hands still cover his face. “I thet up an old one tho she could practithe. Yethterday. She got it today. My human ith the betht human.”

A spark of psionic energy flicks Karkat's wrist.

“Yourth jutht wantth to pail Zahhak. And yourth – ” Kanaya rubs her wrist, frowning. “ – thtill dribbleth.”

“She does not.” Karkat looks up in time to see an elegantly shod foot connect with Sollux's narrow side. “Rose is an extremely tidy and well-mannered child.”

“Which is weird.” Karkat looks back and forth between them. “Does it not strike you as weird?”

“Yeth.” and “No.” chorus back to answer him.

Sollux says, “Yeah, no, it'th weird, KN. Babieth aren't tidy.”

“Mine is.” She crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap. “It would be insulting to suppose the difference in our respective charges is the result of some deficiency in your guardianship,” she continues, “so of could I never would, however logical the conclusion might appear.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Karkat says. “We really appreciate that vote of confidence.”

He rolls his eyes then leans closer and does it again. Kanaya's lips twitch.

“You're welcome,” she says. “Now. There was something I wanted to ask.”

Karkat gives her his best attentive face; Sollux looks at the sky.

She says, “Will Eridan and Dave be here?” and Karkat groans while Sollux rolls over on his face and covers his ears.

“I have heard tho fucking much about that nook-thniffing wathte-of-horn – ”

“I don't know,” Karkat breaks in. “I don't know, I don't know, I have no idea, Kanaya, I invited him – ”

“Ugh!”

“Shut up, Sollux, I invited him, but I might have fucked it up, I just don't know.”

“Karkat. _Karkat_. I think you need to calm down.”

“Fuck calm, I am fucking calm, I am the calm master, I am fucking Troll Zen up in here, but I fucked this up, Kanaya, I fucked up with Eridan and now he's never going to accept – ” He waves his hand. “ – any of it and once he stops flailing he'll be pissed as all shit and he'll take it out on Dave and then Dave will be in fucking danger and that'll be my fucking fault and Dirk is never going to see his baby fucking brother, who is the whole fucking point of this entire fucking operation, and that'll be my fucking fault, too and I have just completely and totally fucked this whole shitshow up, Kanaya, I have fucked it comprehensively before it even started, grounded that shit before it even got off the ground, I fucking – ”

“Shoosh, dumbathth.”

Sollux is sitting in the space between Karkat and Kanaya and Karkat barely sees the first pap before it makes contact. He tries to keep talking, to explain in more graphic detail exactly how fucked the whole project is, to suggest they maybe all just go home and hide behind their recuperacoons until the last of their humilation fades, but Sollux shooshes him again, and then again, and keeps papping his face until he gives up and gives in and just flops forward to rest his head on Sollux's shoulder.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” Sollux agrees. “Twice. Now, shoosh.”

“Fucking exhibitionist,” he tries.

“Ehehe. Sorry, KN.”

“Don't mind me.” She sounds more amused than concerned or uncomfortable. “I'll just wait here.”

Karkat feels a little bad for it but he does make her wait. Not got too long – not long enough for the temptation to do something really inappropriate, like crawl into Sollux's lap, to start to sink in – but it's a little while before his bloodpusher returns to its resting rate and he thinks he can be coherent about the Ampora mess with no further papping. He's glad Sollux stays there on the bench, though, and gladder of the arm that comes to rest around his shoulders. He has his pride, though, so he only leans in a little bit.

 

Now that he knows it's all right and whatever happened to him before isn't going to happen again, it's like all bets are off, it's a crying free-for-all.

Dave cries when he doesn't want to take a bath; he cries when he's hungry; he cries when he's not hungry; he cries when Eridan says they aren't visiting Dirk, today; he cries when Kankri shows up; and he cries when anything is spilled or broken or dropped on the floor, especially when he's the one spilling, breaking or dropping it. He cries over anything that doesn't go precisely his way and, while Eridan empathizes with that urge, the Karkat voice in his head (when did he get one of them?) tells him giving into the urge to cuddle and do whatever the kid wants would be a bad idea.

So Dave takes his bath and eats at mealtimes, tears or no tears; spills and breaks are cleaned up before any but the most cursory cuddling happens; and Eridan stands firm on his own reluctance and refuses to commit to seeing the Vantases any time soon. 

The Kankri thing, though – that's kinda funny.

Dave is twitchy, that day (the day Eridan gets the e-mail about the meeting, but he's not thinking about that), all day. Every noise from outside has him scuttling to the window as fast as his less-than-stellar coordination can manage, never mind he isn't quite tall enough to see out. It kinda does things to Eridan's insides, how worked up Dave is over not getting to see Dirk, but not enough to start him thinking about – that stuff. Not nearly enough. (It does make him wonder, though, had he ever been this attached to Cronus? This eager to see him? Is it just a human thing or is it – not going there.)

By the time an actual knock comes at the entry portal, Dave is worked up enough to produce an actual squeak and scurry after Eridan towards the hall, leaving the picture he's been coloring – looks like some kinda robot – on the floor. He's moving fast enough Eridan worries he'll fall and scoops him up for a ride without thinking about it. Cronus makes it to the portal first and opens it just as Eridan rounds the corner, Dave fairly vibrating with excitement in his arms. In the seconds it takes Cronus and Kankri to exchange greetings, Dave registers both that the person knocking is not Dirk and that Dirk is not likely to be hiding behind that person. He goes limp with disappointment and Eridan just has time to hear Kankri say, “Eridan, I trust you're well. And little Dave, how – ” before the wailing tears start up again.

In a way the constant tears are a good thing, however stressful, because they mean Dave feels safe, now. Secure. It means he knows he's wanted, that he won't be hurt. It makes Eridan hurt to imagine all the times he was too scared to cry before. He focuses on that thought – _this is a good thing_ – and on the priceless look of mortification on Kankri's face as he carries his crying child (he is a child, he is, Eridan knows that and yet – ) back to the nutrition block for a snuggle and some apple juice.

They're going to need more, soon.

“Shh, hey, calm down, it's all cool,” he says cuddling and pouring at the same time. They need more fragile-shelled protein nodules, too. And nutrition loaf and honey. And – a grocery run is what they need. And with Kankri in the house, there's no better time than the present. 

Dave has quieted down to little hiccups by the time they make it to the consumption surface; not a bad fit at all. He takes the juice but stares at Eridan with big, watery eyes as he straps him into his elevated seating unit.

“Wanna see Dirk,” he says and Eridan sighs as he ruffles the white-blonde hair.

“Well, ya can't,” he says. “Not today, anyway. And ya gotta stop hauntin' the viewports. Dirk's a polite kid, mostly, he won't just stop by without an invitation.”

“You said he was rude,” Dave points out, as Eridan goes in search of the pen and notepad they keep in the nutrition block storage squares.

“He is, sometimes,” he says. “But there are diff'rent levels a politeness. Not sayin' thanks is one thing. Maybe a little gentle mockery a some one's perfectly reasonable an' elegant sartorial choices. But showin' up unannounced an' uninvited at somebody's hive – that's a diff'rent kinda rude an' I don't think Dirk'll do it. Karkat might not be the pinnacle a all social graces but he raised Dirk well enough for that.”

He's back at the consumption surface and it unsure how much of this Dave has been able to parse. He's sipping his juice, looking contemplative. Eridan starts the shopping list. Three items are on it before Dave says, “So if we invited him, he would come?”

Eridan makes an effort to keep from grimacing as he looks at the shy hope on his kid's face.

“He might. If he accepted the invitation. But we can't right now, okay? We gotta go to the supply depot. You wanna do that with me?”

Dave blinks at him.

“What's that?” he asks.

“It's where the food comes from,” Eridan says. “We go to the supply depot, pick what food we want, and bring it back to the hive. Normally Cronus goes but we need some things an' he's busy with Kankri so how about it? You wanna go get the food?”

Dave nods, hesitates, then nods again.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just – do we have to invite Kankri over?”

Eridan lets himself smile.

“Cronus invites him,” he says.

“Why?”

“Cause he likes seein' him, I guess. He an Kankri are friends, like me an Karkat.”

Dave considers this.

“So. We can't stop inviting him?”

Eridan snorts, stands up, and begins unstrapping Dave from his seat.

“'Fraid not, kiddo. Might be nicer for you an' me but Kankri's important to Cronus. They go way back. Known each other a long time, I mean. Cronus would be sad if he didn't come over anymore.”

Dave holds out his hands to be lifted.

“Okay,” he says. “He can keep coming over. If it would make Cronus sad.”

Eridan melts a little and can't not scoop Dave up and hug him.

“That's outright magnanimous of you,” he says.

“Mag – nam – nous?”

“Mag-nan-i-mous. Means you're nice.”

“Mag – nan – Magnan-mous. Okay. I'm nice.”

 

“That'th all?” Sollux says, once Karkat has finished recounting his conversation with Ampora.

“What?”

Sollux shakes his head and paps the back of Karkat's.

“That'th nothing, dumbathth. Tho he ran off. I though he told to you go fuck yourthelf.”

Kanaya hums in agreement.

“You did make the situation sound more dire than it seems to be,” she says. “He may just need time to process what you said.”

“Fuck processing,” Karkat says. “I terrified him. He found the whole prospect of human personhood _terrifying_ and when has an Ampora ever dealt with fear rationally? I should have, fuck, eased him into it or something. Not beat him into the metaphorical ground.”

“Like he would have rethponded to anything elthe.”

“Yes.” Kanaya nods. “Eridan does not respond well subtlety. Being as direct as possible was likely to be the best strategy.”

“I shouldn't have brought Dave into it. Eridan loves that kid and I just – ”

“No,” Kanaya interrupts, her voice firm. “You absolutely should have 'brought Dave into it'. Would he have paid any attention otherwise?”

“She'th right, KK.” Sollux's hold on his shoulder has tightened. “You jutht thaid ED loveth that kid. He should want what'th betht for him. If you'd turned into Kankri on him, thpouting abthtract thocial juthtice hoofbeathtshit at him, he'd jutht have been confuthed. I'd be confuthed, fuck.”

“It is possible he'd have made the connection without my help,” Karkat says. “He does have a working brainsponge, for all you'd like to deny it. It was just, fuck, we'd just been talking about how Dave was maybe abused, before, and I was thinking about Dirk as a baby and I just – fuck!”

Sollux's hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his neck and he rubs little circles with his thumb.

“Breathe, KK,” he says. “I will pap you again, don't think I won't.”

“Fuck off,” Karkat says.

Gently, Kanaya breaks in. “Eridan might have made the connection between human rights and Dave's own welfare. Or he might not. He's rather – avoidant on – certain topics – if he'd rather not think about them.”

“Got that right.” Karkat mumbles. Sollux is still rubbing his neck.

“By making it explicit up front you've left nothing to chance. The two subjects are irrevocably tied in his mind. If he does 'love that kid' he'll join us. Maybe not tonight, but he will.”

“Mm.” There's a chance Karkat is going to start to purr, soon. “You really think so?”

“That'th why we're here,” Sollux says. He stops rubbing, but slides his arm further around Karkat's back and hugs him close. “We all love our humanth.”

Karkat's mind drifts to Dirk, charming Porrim over coffee and he wonders what the fuck they even have to talk about. He smiles to himself and says he supposes so.


	9. Chapter 9

Tavros and Rufioh show up just before six, carrying clear plastic food storage containers filled with more cupcakes Karkat's seen since he last took Meenah up on a party invite. And they're not just cupcakes – they're miniature cupcakes, each about a quarter standard size, carefully and colorfully iced in their little paper wrappers.

Karkat gapes a little.

“I, uh, took the day off, to make them,” Tavros explains, a copper tinge to his eartips. “I was a little, uh, nervous, and maybe made too many.”

“No such thing as too many cupcakes,” Rufioh says. “I think they're cool. Look at this guy, there's a dinosaur on it.”

There is, in fact, a dinosaur on it. About a third of the confectionery is decorated with small animals, while the rest are done in bright colors with metallic sprinkles. When Karkat has no response, Sollux paps the back of his head and says, “I never knew you were a thtress baker, TR. They look good.”

They are good, as Karkat is too bewildered to properly appreciate half an hour later, sitting in the recreation block with his hivemates and their guests. Dirk is taking the lead, thanking everyone for coming and reiterating their purpose for being there, as Karkat, seated at his side, glowers at half a tiny cupcake.

“Boring,” Vriska breaks in. “We know this. It's why we're here. Let's get to the good stuff. Who do we bomb first?”

Dirk looks at her. “I think bombing might be counterproductive in the long run,” he says. “We're attempting to form a civil rights group, not a terrorist cell.”

“Dull,” she argues. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“Lobby. Demonstrate. It had occurred to me that you would be an ideal candidate to head up public demonstrations. They're possibly the most critical aspect of any successful movement and I don't know anyone as skilled as you in getting public attention.”

Vriska preens; Karkat grimaces. This is exactly what they talked about, exactly how they planned it, but – Vriska. He eats the rest of his cupcake and wishes for another one.

“That's more like it!” Vriska says.

“I can help!” Nepeta chimes in. “Me and Jake can.” She looks over at Jake, who's nodding enthusiastically.

“Righto!”

“And Jade,” she says, “you and Becqueral would be pawsome at public demonstrations!”

Jade grins. “Bec can teleport us,” she says. “We can go anywhere.”

Karkat chokes.

“Teleport?” he demands. “That devi – pawbeast can _teleport?_ ”

Nepeta looks over at him, eyes wide.

“Of purrourse!” she says.

Becqueral materializes at Karkat's side and he squawks.

“How did you not know that?” Dirk asks.

“What? And you did?”

“Uh, yeah? I kinda think everyone did.”

Karkat looks around the room. Vriska looks haughty; everyone else is nodding. Tavros says, “I had never, um, witnessed it myself. But I kind of, uh, assumed?”

“You assumed?” Karkat says. “You just assumed? You assumed that he could teleport? How the fuck could you just – no, fuck, what am I saying, of course you assumed. Massive, terrifying barkbeast roaming the wilderness with human wiggler, of course he can fucking teleport, that's the logical conclusion on hearing those facts in order, obviously, how could anyone conclude otherwise? I feel so stupid now, of course he can fucking teleport, there's nothing wrong with this picture at all, how could anyone come to any other conclusohmygog!”

Bec teleports, again, appearing in front of him with his head in Karkat's lap. Karkat flails then scowls.

“Fuck you, too,” he says, but gives the thick fur on his head a pat. “Fuck off, now.”

Satisfied, Bec vanishes and reappears back to Jade's side. There's a silence.

“Well, then,” Dirk says. “I think that's settled. Vriska, Nepeta, Jake, Jade and Bec are your team. We'll sort out the specifics of what you'll do once we have everyone else assigned.”

The rest of assignments go more or less as planned. The humans will obviously play a part in every public appearance but, aside from John and Rose, who are too young to contribute much more than their innate adorableness, they have other things to do. Dirk and Jane form a planning committee for lobbying efforts along with Feferi and the Nitrams. 

(“Boring,” Vriska announces, and drags Nepeta, Jade and their associates to a corner to hold court.)

Sollux and Roxy take charge of the on-line effort. Sollux already has a domain name – humanrightsinitiative.grb – reserved, along with a bunch of variations to redirect. Roxy is put solely in charge of social networking sites, as Sollux is more likely to give into the temptation to do something terrible, given the proper, and inevitable, provocation.

Dirk is pretty handy with his video recording devices and he interrupts the tete-a-tete in the corner to ask them to think of a time and place he and Roxy can come film them. Vriska preens again.

Kanaya and Porrim are put in charge of what Dirk terms 'designing the brand'. They need a logo, t-shirts and the like, apparently. Karkat was not involved in this decision, and sulks.

“Get with Sollux to help design the website,” Dirk tells them. “It'll need nonprimary colors.”

Kanaya nods seriously; Sollux flips them off.

“Karkat is central command,” Dirk says. “Every e-mail you send about this goes to him, too, and every person who shows interest should be directed to him.”

“Why not you, Dirk?” Jane asks.

“I'll be there,” he assures her. “But we talked it over and figured that, depressing as it is, trolls'll wanna talk to another troll. But I will so be there.”

“Haunting my every fucking move,” Karkat agrees.

“Like a weirdly pink ghost.” Dirk offers Jane a nod that translates to a smile and adds, “There's one other matter to discuss. Money. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but this household isn't exactly rolling in it and no, Jane and Feferi, you guys can't finance the whole thing. Between us we've got enough to get started but what we need is public support, preferably expressed in cash. Vriska, this is on you. Word needs to get out and fast.”

Vriska tosses her hair and offers him a grin filled with too many teeth.

“Leave it aaalllll to me,” she says.

Karkat rises abruptly and says, “Who wants another cupcake?”

 

When their guests have left and the debris is clear and Karkat's head is less than clear, the sun is rising, brilliant and slow over the horizon. It paints the sky in blues and reds, deep purple and vivid orange, like flowers in a sea of mixing blood.

He closes the nutrition block curtains over it; he's not in the mood for poetry. He's in the mood for – he should be in the mood for sleep. His cocoon should be calling him, as the cushioned respite platform has long since called Dirk. It should, but it doesn't. Nothing calls him. He listens and hears only himself, loud and insistent and unkind.

After an unpleasant few minutes of pacing the rec block, he decides he might as well head for his own block anyway, but the stairs lead him to Sollux's. The lights are out, the computer sleeping; he's in the cocoon already; atypically early, so maybe today took as much out of him as it did Karkat. Maybe Karkat should – Or maybe – Yeah. All right. That sounds good.

Karkat strips to his boxers before the thought has fully formed and sinks into the blue sopor with a sigh Sollux answers with a grunt. His eyes don't open but his arms do and Karkat drops into them, burrowing until the sopor is up to his chin and his face is hidden by Sollux's slender neck. It's been perigees since they did this but their bodies twine and lock like they always do, comfortable and comforting.

“Mph,” Karkat explains.

“Uh-huh.” Sollux rubs his back under the slime, scratches gentle clawtips along the groove of his spine.

“Fuck everything,” Karkat says and hangs on tighter.

“Twice,” Sollux agrees. “Go to sleep, bulgeeater.”

A sopory hand paps Karkat's hair then settles on his nape. Karkat curls himself in like he could get closer without taking this somewhere concupiscent, and closes his eyes.

 

D-->Vantas;

D--> My moirail has informed me of your intention to begin what she terms a human rights campaign to further the interests of our human population and seek legal recognition of their status as people, equal to trolls.

D--> Your human companion has also mentioned the matter to me.

D--> I commend your STRONG resolve and would like to lend my STRENGTH to the effort. You will contact me with suggestions as to how I may proceed.

D--> I command it.

D--> E. Zahhak

Karkat would be inclined to think it was a prank but Zahhak doesn't do pranks and no one capable of hacking his e-mail would bother with this shit.

His head hurts and it's Dirk's fault, again.

 

Dirk shows up for breakfast, again, armed with a printout. He looks a little manic under cracking impassivity and his hair isn't gelled. He says nothing, just shoves the paper into Karkat's hands and heads for the coffee maker.

Karkat watches him, noting the tension in his neck, the subtle twitch of thin fingers, before turning his attention to the sheet.

The first line reads, “D-->Strider,”.

Karkat has had just about enough of Equius for one lifetime.

“I'm not interested in your flush letters,” he says.

Dirk grunts. He's adding sugar to his own mug.

“Just read it,” he says. “Shit is too weird for me.”

“It's Zahhak. You're just fucking noticing he's a fucking freak?”

“No, it isn't. Equius just did the test. It's _me_.”

Well, that's ominous. Karkat says as much. Dirk grunts again and Karkat reads the damn paper. 

Then he reads it again.

Then he puts it down, leans in for another glance through, and sits up.

“Well,” he says. “Shit is definitely weird.”

“Told you.”

“What does it even mean?”

“You think I know? Shit.”

“The only thing I can think of is – ”

“No.”

“You are mammals.”

“Fuck, _no_ , Karkat, she's like – my sister, I guess. Except that I now apparently have an actual sister. Because, newsflash, we wouldn't have been sexually mature at that point. And – did you ever see Roxy pregnant?”

Karkat wrinkles his nose as Dirk sits down across from him.

“Grah,” he says. “Okay, fuck, no, point, no, fuck. Jegus fuck, fine, but – how?”

“How do any of us have siblings in the first place? Karkat – where did we come from?”

Karkat shakes his head.

“The woods, mostly. The occasional cave. I think Jane was on the beach.”

“Fuck you, before that. Where – how did we get here? Who or what made us? And how did my and Roxy's genetic material end up combining in Dave and Rose?”

“Oh my gog,” Karkat says. “Oh fuck, oh gog, fuck, no, don't say that, don't ever fucking say that, I raised you from fucking grubs, I do not ever want to think about your genetic material, never, not ever, fuck.”

“Oh, for – ” Dirk kicks him lightly under the consumption surface. “Do I need to get Sollux down here?”

“Fuck you.” Karkat frowns. “No. I mean – Is he even awake?”

Dirk stares.

“Fuck you again, I do not need papping. I just – would appreciate the support of my moirail is all. And also, shouldn't he – or Roxy – know about this?” He taps a claw on the offending document.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dirk says. “But what're they going to do about it?”

“What are _we_ going to do about it? Is there something you expect me to do? Because, fuck, Dirk, I've got nothing.”

“No, no, just – ” Dirk stares at is coffee container and frowns visibly. “We have to find out how humans are made.”

Karkat drops his head into his hands.

“I fucking knew you were going to say that.”

“We have the right to know,” Dirk says. “If someone is playing around with my genetic material – ”

“Eugh.”

“ – I have the right to know.”

Karkat sighs.

“Good thing we've already got a larval human rights organization,” he says. “Origins are now on the agenda for the next meeting.”

“Satisfactory,” Dirk says.

Karkat snorts as he stands up, then takes the opportunity to ruffle Dirk's hair without stabbing a palm on the usual spikes.

“Serious conversation time is over,” he says. “Protein nodules?”

“Gog, yes,” Dirk says. “Make it six.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Sweeps in the past (but not many):**

 

It ended with another headstorm. Karkat should maybe have expected that; he thinks Sollux would appreciate the synchronicity.

It had been most of a sweep since he'd moved into Kankri's hive and a lot of that sweep had been spent with Dirk. Mostly just hanging out, alone or on playdates with Roxy, Jane or Jake. The rough edges of Dirk's impassivity had been smoothing themselves away over time, as if to compensate for Roxy and Jake's enthusiasms, and between robodates with Zahhak and impromptu art jams with Nepeta, Dirk was honing his skills, growing confidant and competent and into a human worth being proud of.

Kankri, Karkat could not help but notice, did not seem proud. Kankri seemed – prowly.

He prowled the hive when they home, appearing to lecture on topics that seemed as random as they were tedious, then stomping away when Dirk, gazing over at him, leaned his head on Karkat's arm.

When Dirk was on an outing with one of the other guardians or having his sword lessons with Latula, Kankri was even prowlier, his sermons sharper-edged as he accused Karkat of everything from thumb privilige to hemonormativity.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK BUSINESS IS IT OF HIS WHAT COLOR MY SIGN IS? NONE, THAT'S WHAT. IT IS NONE OF HIS BUSINESS. MAYBE HE LIKES BEING AN EXHIBITIONIST AND WAVING OUR MUTATION AROUND FOR THE WHOLE GOGDAMNED PLANET TO SEE BUT HEMOANONYMITY IS NOT ACTUALLY A CRIME NOR IS IT A SIGN OF SOME DEEP SEATED SHAME AND SELF-HATRED. MY SHAME AND SELF-HATRED ARE NOT DEEP SEATED, THEY ARE ON THE SURFACE, OUT ON DISPLAY FOR ALL TO SEE AND LEARN FROM. MY BLOOD DOESN'T NEED TO BE OUT THERE, TOO.

TA: do ii need to come pap you? again? iit'2 the 2econd tiime thii2 week.

They have another visit to Tavros, eventually. Dirk needs a new prescription for his headstorm meds and Tavros wants to do a check-up. They see Rufioh, too.

“Little dude looks great,” he says, while Dirk is talking with Tavros. “You're doing an awesome job, Karkat. Don't tell Kankri but you're taking to this whole lusus deal way better than he did.”

Even if Karkat were inclined to tell Kankri anything, he couldn't be able to; Kankri doesn't come out of his block for the rest of the night.

It was another perigee before things really fell apart; Dirk had a headache, amping up to be a really bad one, and Kankri had been invited to a party.

“While I understand your concerns,” Kankri told Karkat, “and empathize with them, I must continue to stress the importance of this even to the cause of ethical treatment of humans. Vineta Silmor is, as I'm sure you're aware, an extremely important troll with many significant ideas for how to further the cause. However, some of her stances are problematic and ablist and it's imperative that I – ”

“You aren't taking him,” Karkat said for maybe the sixth time. He had planted himself in front of the door to his block, where Dirk was lying down.

“I repeat that your concerns are sensible and laudible, but they are, if I may say so, short-sighted. Relations between the animal rights and differently abled rights groups are almost nil and it is very important that someone bridge that gap – tag for acrophobia. While I of course have no desire for any accolades that I might receive as the one to fill this role, it has occurred to me that my extensive study of both subjects – ”

“No,” Karkat says. “No, no, no, fuck no, you are not taking him anywhere. Are you panaddled or too stupid to know what a migraine is?”

“Your language – ”

“Your language is the problem here. Your language and your inability to to comprehend that while your personal quest for social fucking justice glory might be the only important thing in your self-absorbed universe, it is not, in fact, the most important thing to everyone else. Or anyone else. Go suck up to bulge-eating loudmouths all you want, it's no skin off my nook, but leave Dirk out of it.”

“I'm his custodian,” Kankri snaps. “I am. Me. I adopted him, I'm his custodian and as his rightful custodian I demand you stand aside and give me access to my human.”

“Fuck your custodianship,” Karkat shoots back. “I'm his lusus.”

CG: I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE.  
TA: there'2 an open hiive in old trollville.  
CG: HOW SOON CAN WE MOVE IN?

 

**The present:**

 

Eridan and Dave show up three nights later, when the household is still reeling from revelations; between Equius and the genetic news there's not a lot of shock left to spare in Karkat for Ampora dramatics so he just lets them in and offers up coffee.

“Here to join up?” he asks as it brews. Dave is in Eridan's lap, looking a little restless, so he goes to lift him. “We haven't had the t-shirts made, yet, but Vriska's probably working on it as we speak.”

“Yeah, in a manner a – Vriska's in on this?” He gives up his baby without a fight and Karkat avoids his eyes, turning at once to take Dave to observe the coffee machine.

“Yeah. And Nepeta and her kids. Tavros. Gamzee so far as he's in on anything. Feferi and Jane, possibly Meenah. And Equius.”

A glance over his shoulder is rewarded by the sight of Eridan's carefully-groomed eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“You got _Equius_?” he asks.

“Not me,” Karkat says, as he turns back and adjusts his sliding on grip around Dave. “Dirk got Equius. Dirk and Nepeta, anyway. So I'm not really surprised you came around. If there's anyone more stuck up than you – ”

“Hey, I ain't stuck up.”

“Do I need to bring up your genocidal stage in front of Dave? No, I do not. Because you were there, shitlicker.”

“I was six sweeps old. Ya can't blame me for that. We were all dumb then. Fuck, Kar, you were blackdating yourself.”

“Which, while embarrassing, is not remotely the same thing as trying to wipe out ninety-five percent of your own fucking species.”

“I ain't like that, now.”

“Sure you're not. But you still feel like you're slumming it every time you're fucking seen with me. And face it, if Dave hadn't gotten you personally invested in humans, you wouldn't be here now.”

Eridan makes a sound of irritation and Karkat can picture him moving to run a hand through his hair before stopping in time to save the careful styling.

“Neither would you, if it wasn't for Dirk an Roxy.”

“Maybe,” Karkat concedes. “But I'd have joined up if, say, Nepeta or Kanaya had asked, even without humans of my own providing twenty-four-seven emotional blackmail.”

“I notice you're still using possessive forms,” Dirk says from the doorway. “You wanna knock that shit off? The whole point is we should belong to ourselves.”

“I'm allowed,” Karkat tells him. “If I wiped your ass for you, nookchafe, you bet your fragile human thinkpan I'm allowed. Look, have a brother.”

Dave is already reaching out.

“Dirk!” he says and there's more expression in his voice than Karkat's yet heard. Dirk comes up to the edges of an actual smile as he crosses the nutrition block.

“S'up, Ampora,” he says. “You mind?”

“Nah, go 'head.” Eridan sounds weary. “I think he'd bite me if I raised a objection.”

Karkat passes Dave into Dirk's arms, lips twitching at the eager cuddle the kid fairly throws himself into.

“Looks like you've been missed,” he murmurs, and offers his half-smile to Dirk, who holds Dave close and looks less than impassive. “He bites?” Karkat asks aloud.

“You bite?” Dirk says to Dave.

“No.”

“He bares his teeth,” Eridan explains. “Ain't gotten to the bitin', yet, but we're waitin' for it. Tryin' to wash his toys is a no go, if you were curious.”

“Not dirty,” Dave says. “They don't need washed. They're okay.”

“The way you drag 'em around – ”

“Ampora,” Karkat says, “I think we need to have a discussion on the difference between little kid clean and neat freak clean. Spoilers: it's a big fucking difference.”

“Eight,” says Dirk.

Karkat stares at him, then rolls his eyes. “The fuck, were you listening at the door?”

“Eight,” says Dave, staring up at Dirk. “What's eight?”

Dirk turns and raises an eyebrow at Eridan, who holds up his hands.

“I have had other things to do than teachin' him numbers. Such as nutrition an civil rights an such. Ain't he a little young for it, anyway?”

“No one is ever too young for a proper education,” Dirk says and he sounds so serious, so righteous, Karkat actually snorts. “And no, he isn't. I started at two.”

“What did you do?” Dave asks, a little louder.

Dirk looks down at him with that almost-expression on his face and hugs him closer.

“I learned numbers,” he says. “Or I started to learn numbers. There's a lot to learn about them and I'm still not finished. You wanna learn numbers, little dude?”

“Uh-huh.”

“See, dude? He wants to learn. You better teach him.”

“I'll mark it on my gogdamn calendar.” Eridan holds out his hands. “I'll have my baby back, now, if you don't mind.”

Dirk gives Dave what looks suspiciously like a cuddle but hands him back. Dave, settling back in Eridan's lap, hands curled on the arm looped around his middle, is actually smiling. Just a little, and it's soon smoothed away, but he smiles and Karkat sees it. He kind of feels like crying.

“So, back on topic,” he says, eyes on the coffee maker. “Dirk, Eridan's joining the doomed crusade. Get him up to speed?”

He doesn't have to look to see the half-smirk on Dirk's face.

“Gladly.”

 

Once the Amporas are on board, things go well. As well as movements for social justice ever go. Though Sollux opposes the move, citing a need to do things other than pap his moirail in the coming perigees, Karkat puts himself in charge of the Initiative e-mail and spends a lot of time cursing at idiots. In an apparent compromise, he and Sollux set up camp on the multiunit with their husktops. This turns their rec block into something of a war room, with other trolls stopping by for planning meetings or moral support every other night.

Sometimes Kanaya comes with her own husktop and sits with them for hours, working on her designs and calmly commiserating over the average IQ of internet users. Dirk suspects his lusii are pale with her, too, though the suggestion would cause too much embarrassment (Kanaya) and frothing, effervescent rage (Karkat) to be worth mentioning. He's saving it for some time he really needs a laugh.

Vriska is in and out like a thunderclap, often leaving John with them, just as she always has. But now she actually rings the grub and stays for a bit, talking actual constructive strategy and flipping her hair around. She and Dirk find common ground in flashmobs.

Tavros and Rufioh, together and separately, drop in a surprising amount, considering how busy they usually are. Tavros is quiet about his motivations but Rufioh is upfront as ever.

“We thought we were the only ones who felt like this,” he tells them. “Was kind of a lonely feeling but it's all good, now. We're in it together.”

Dirk decides he doesn't really mind being called 'doll'.

Ampora, meanwhile, for all the drama of getting him to come around, doesn't prove to be much use, at least at the moment. He spends a lot of time on the rec block floor but mostly provides what Karkat alternately refers to as 'moral support' and 'whiny assfuckery'. He does offer to help moderate the Initiative message board, once it's up and running, and Karkat, in a fit of self-preservation, agrees. Sollux consents only because it will take some of the load off his moirail. So Eridan's mostly a wash but highblood support is worth something and there's strength in numbers or whatever and he always brings Dave so it's a win.

Dave will never not be a win.

Feferi contributes mostly by e-mail but she brings Jane by whenever they have a night free. Those nights become meeting nights, with the whole Initiative, plus or minus those with actual jobs, piled in the rec block eating whatever baked goods come out of the Nitram nutrition block and talking policy.

How Kankri catches wind of the fourth such meeting, about a perigee and a half in, no one is certain but most everyone suspects Cronus.

Porrim doesn't always come, so it's pure dumb luck she's there, too.

“You're leaving, now,” she says, blocking the door as Dirk's side.

“Porrim, I – ” He looks at a loss, albeit briefly. “I didn't realize you had also joined in this venture.”

“I have,” she says. “And given you previous and very public view on the subject, I can't imagine you're here to do the same. It's not debate night, Kankri. Go home.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” she tells him. “I remember your human rights phase, Kankri. I was there. Your idea of human rights was a list of words it's appropriate to use around them and a much longer list of words it's not okay to use, with some stricter animal cruelty laws, if no one is offended by the idea. Unless I'm remembering wrong, your response to the idea of human personhood contained the words 'dangerously naïve' and I really don't think I'm remembering wrong.”

Kankri bristles, then casts an anxious look at Dirk. Dirk arches one eyebrow over the rim of his ocular shields.

“Porrim,” Kankri says. “Perhaps we shouldn't – ”

“Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of Dirk.”

Dirk says, “Yeah, dude, don't mind me. I just live here.”

Kankri scowls at him.

“If you insist,” he says. “I had intended to ease into the subject a bit more than this but if you desire to force me to explicate now perhaps we could move this discussion inside. I think the others present could benefit from hearing an alternative perspective – ”

“I already said it's not debate night,” Porrin snaps. “Say it here or leave.”

“Fine, then.” He takes a breath. Dirk leans one shoulder into the doorframe and eyes the foot Kankri has placed on the threshold. “I had, as I said, intended to approach the subject with rather more delicacy but since you force my hand, I must say that while your decision to work towards making life better for the humans of this planet is laudable and I do applaud it, I cannot help but think you have not fully thought through the ramifications of how you propose to go about doing so. Humans are an extremely sensitive and impressionable race, in need of care and supervision, and while their lot in life is certainly in need of improvement, certain provisions need to be made to ensure that they are not abused or taken advantage of. The answer to the human problem is not to heap yet more responsibility and stress upon them. They are an emotionally volatile race, in their maturity much like trolls in their extreme youth and the custodianship of a responsible troll is vital to their health and well-being throughout their lifespan. While I do not wish to imply you would be in any way ill-suited to custodianship of a human, I think you should consider that encouraging them to think themselves the intellectual equals of trolls is dangerous and potentially damaging and could even be considered abusive if – ”

The door closes. There's a thud and a curse and, as Dirk flicks the bolt, renewed knocking.

“Oops,” he says. “My hand slipped.”

“That's perfectly fine,” she says, but there's a flash of regret on her face when she looks at the door. “He's probably going to go see Cronus.”

“Ah.” He watches her for a moment. The knocks stop then start again, then end with a final thud. After another few seconds he checks the peephole and asks, “You wanna go after him?”

She shakes her head.

“No. Cronus is on our side, even if he's too lazy to do much about it. And he knows what will happen if he ever touches Kankri.”

There's iced venom in her voice and it makes Dirk's lips twitch up.

“You are a scary lady, Porrim Maryam,” he says. “Emphasis on lady. And, uh, sorry if this makes things harder with – ” He gestures to the door. “You know.”

“If his stance on women's rights hasn't terminated our association, nothing will.” She pauses. “I feel like I should apologize for that, but I won't.”

“No big.” Dirk tips her a nod. “I know all about complicated feelings for Kankri. Now.” He offers his arm to her, as he did on the first day she visited. “May I escort you back to the party, madam?”

She's takes it with a smile.

“Of course, kind sir,” she says and she's totally laughing at him.

Which is pretty much the point.

Aside from that little hiccup, things are going well. They have a good night.

 

Karkat gets an e-mail, the next night, and it doesn't go well at all.


	11. Chapter 11

The night Kankri tries to crash the Initiative meeting, Eridan and Dave linger, afterward, anticipating an unpleasant encounter on arriving home. Around the time Sollux closes his husktop and retreats to his respite block, Karkat finally kicks them out and it's not yet late enough to preclude to the possibility of Kankri infestation. But when they get back there's nothing and no one but Cronus, sitting in the rec block and looking impossibly bleak.

“Gimme ten minutes,” Eridan tells him and receives only a listless nod.

At least he doesn't have his guitar out.

Dave is sleepy in Eridan's arms, a warm little bundle of human affection and he's reluctant to be put down, clinging to Eridan's sweater. Eridan has to pry his little fingers loose, kneeling by the respite platform, but once he's unhooked and tucked in he makes no more protest and falls asleep easily. Eridan is tempted to stay with him, to watch him breath, rather than go face whatever angstfest is waiting in the rec block but ultimately he has to go and go he does.

It's been a nice nine minutes.

He sheds his shoes and scarf in the front hall and goes to sit on the multiseat unit, at an angle beside the single seat unit Cronus is occupying.

“A'ight,” he says. “Shoot.”

Cronus looks over at him and raises a sluggish eyebrow.

“What?” he says and there's no drama to it, no flair or whine, no particular intonation at all. It's just – flat. Hopeless.

There might be an actual problem here.

“What,” Eridan says, “has got you lookin' so low you might as well be bleedin' rust?”

“Don't say that, Eri, 's hemo – somethin'. Hemolitist, hemophobic. One a them.” Again, flat, and the gesture of his hand is positively dead.

“So Kankri did stop by,” Eridan observes. “We thought he might've.”

Cronus lets out a bitter laugh.

“He stopped by all right,” he says. “Stayed just long enough to read me the fuckin' riot act an' abscond. Didn't even step in the fuckin' entry portal. I swear, Eri, he was only here a half hour talkin' and for Kankri that's fuckin' curt. What did you guys say to him?”

“Nothin',” Eridan replies. “Least, I didn't. I didn't even see him. Porrim and Dirk answered the portal and they never let him in. Couldn't hear what they said but they seemed pretty happy when they came back.”

“Happy, fuck.” Cronus runs a hand through his hair. The product has been washed out and it flops back then forward again, over his forehead. “I'm fuckin' glad someone is. Kankri looked cut through the bloodpusher, all spoutin' how damagin' a idea human personhood is, sayin' tellin' humes they're people is abusive, all kinds a shit.”

“What?” Eridan says. “Abusive? No shit?”

“No shit,” Cronus says. “Least, it's a hundred percent pure shit but Kankri believes it and I – I dunno if I can do this, Eri.”

“Do what, now? Don't me you're punkin' on the initiative, too, cause if you are, go in there and look at Dave, first, then come tell me he ain't a little kid like any wiggler.”

“No,” Cronus says. “Not that. I ain't punkin' on that, for all the good I'm doin' now. I mean – Kankri. I'm not sure – if that's really how he feels – I always liked how he'd fight for anyone, ya know, whether they want him to or they even exist or what. Seemed real admirable an all. But if he really wouldn't fight for Davey, or even for Dirk – he won't even call them people, Eri, and I just – he's maybe not the guy I thought.”

It's then that penny drops and Eridan can't help but say, “You were serious? About Kankri?”

Cronus stares at him, as though unsure whether or not to be offended. He says, “Yeah? You thought I wasn't?”

“Cro, nobody thought you were. We all thought you were hittin' on him for – practice, like I said. Or habit. Or cause you were bored. But you were – you are – really serious about him? Seriously flushed, I mean?”

Cronus shrugs.

“Flushed, pale. Red, anyways. And I was, before, yeah, but – I dunno. How could he look at Davey and still think that?”

“Fuck if I know. But remember, he had Dirk for over a sweep and even that didn't change his mind. Fuckin' baby genius in his hive and he still thinks – ”

“I know, I know, ya think I ain't been agonizin' about it since he left?” Cronus props his elbows on his knees and drops his face into his hand, tugging at the front of his hair. “I just don't know,” he says. “I mean, he's Kankri. And I know you don't like him but I do.”

“I know that, Cro.”

“Except now I really kinda don't. Not pitch hate like, just disappointed, I guess. I mean – ” He looks up at Eridan through his hair, mouth twisted in distress. “How could he say that shit? That we're abusive? That Kar an Sol an Kan an everyone are abusin' their humans by wantin' a better life for 'em? It just – It don't make sense, Eri, and I'm fucked if I can see his reasoning.”

“Maybe he doesn't have any,” Eridan hazards. “Maybe he's just – bein' a Vantas. Stubborn as all fuck, you know.”

Cronus huffs a little laugh, less unpleasant than the last.

“I know,” he says. “Fuck do I ever know. Fuckin' nubby-horned – I just can't believe – I'm repeatin' myself, here.”

“Just a little,” Eridan says. “But I don't mind. Get it outta your system if you need to.”

Cronus nods.

“I guess. You really don't mind?”

Eridan smiles.

“We're the closest thing we go to moirails,” he says. “Lay it on me.”

Cronus smiles back at him, after a moment. And then he starts talking, again.

 

If Eridan was wrong about Cronus, he was right about Dirk; he's not rude enough to show up uninvited at somebody's hive. Except when he is.

The Zahhak hive is massive, even by highblood standards, and stands half-obscured by a perpetual exoskeleton of scaffolding where walls are ever being repaired and re-repaired. Half its substantial mass is the two mammoth garage-workshops that flank it and though the main hive is dark, lights are on in both of them.

Dirk goes right, ignoring the path as he vaults damaged topiary and freshly-cracked statues. The visage of noble hoofbeasts, usually worth at least a fond glance, is ignored in favor of tunnel-visioning his way to the large door at the back of Equius's workshop. Usually it's kept open for creeping moirails; today it's closed, a flashing red danger sign Dirk isn't interested in seeing. He forgoes knocking and ringing and hacks the reinforced keypad in under ten seconds. Sollux would be proud, if Dirk could ever bring himself to relive this intrusion.

The door opens and he's barging in, voice raised to call out, “Equius Zahhak, we've got a conversation to be having.”

There's a silence, too complete. It's the silence of held breath and Dirk is breathing hard.

“Zahhak,” he snaps. “You gogdamned coward. Get out here and talk to me.”

More silence. There's no movement in the lab. Dirk sucks in air over his teeth, counts to eleven, and start talking. His voice is lower, now, closer to his natural tone, and it echoes in the vastness of the work room.

“So that's how it's going to be. Okay, fine. I can roll with it. I don't give a shit. It's not like I'd expect much in the way of intelligent feedback if you came out here to face me.”

Nothing.

“I got your e-mail. Or, I'm sorry, _Karkat_ got your e-mail. My loving custodian. He saw fit to share it with me, can't imagine why. I'm only human. What possible interest could I have in the changing status of our human rights initiative?

“He didn't tell me come over here. He also didn't tell me not to, for all the good it would have done, and that's as good as a formal fucking blessing in Karkat land. How does that make you feel? The lowblood mutant giving his blessing for the hive pet to come take a piece out of your highblood hide over a broken word? You offered your STRONG assistance but it's not like it was to anyone who matters. A couple of gutterbloods and their pets – not like wussing out on that could be a matter of _honor_ or anything.”

Further silence. Dirk lets himself laugh. 

“Honor. What a crock of shit. Not even hoofbeastshit. Maybe purrbeast. Wonder how Nepeta'll feel when she hears about your STRONG resolve. Hers actually seems to have some STRENGTH behind it, you know. She actually seems to give a shit about other sentient beings, unlike – ”

“You will – ” There's a hiss and a clank and movement from the dark corner Dirk has been addressing. Equius appears, touseled and sweat-drenched and still so damn appealing. Dirk hasn't seen him in perigees and if he were a troll he's be the deepest pitch, right now, flipped hard since Karkat handed over his palmhusk, tiny words resolving into betrayal on the screen. But Dirk's not a troll and he just feels a little bit sick.

“You will stop,” Equius says and takes another step forward. “You will not involve Nepeta in this charade. You will not – I command it. You will cease to speak of her at once.”

“I'll do whatever the fuck I want,” Dirk says. “And what the fuck are you talking about, charade? The only charade we've got going here is yours. You whole big, strong blueblood thing, throwing in the towel – like you'd ever throw away a perfectly good towel – hiding in the shadows to keep from facing a frail human pet. The shit kinda STRENGTH is that?”

“You will stop,” Equius repeats. “Your language is – deplorable. You aspersions upon my character are – also deplorable. You will stop. You will leave. I command it.”

“And why the fuck should I listen to you?” Dirk moves closer just as Equius does the same. The gap between them narrows, has never been wider.

“You will stop.” Equius seems to be stuck on repeat. “You will stop, because – because I know, Strider, I know your – puerile game. My moirail – whose name you will not speak – has revealed it to me.”

“What, so Nepeta told you I'm sick of being kept as a pet and would like legal and social recognition of my obvious personhood? I could have told you that, dude.”

“You will not say her name. You will not – deceive me. She has revealed you – flushed intentions – ” And, wow, that is an impressive amount of sweat, even for a Zahhak. “ – towards me. And, in doing so, has revealed all.”

Dirk isn't blushing because Dirk doesn't blush but his ears burn.

“So I wanted a piece of your ass,” he says, doesn't say _your brain, your heart, your –_ “Before you pulled this latest heap of pawbeast excrement, I mean. What does that have to do with you punking on the initiative?”

“There is no initiative.” Equius is fucking snarling and they've been moving, they're closer to each other, now, close enough for Dirk to smell fresh sweat. “There is only this – fantasy – you have concocted and persuaded your _custodian_ of. You have no interest in legal recognition. This was – This is – It is a ploy to ensnare me. You care nothing for your fellow pets, you care only to satisfy – baser urges. You are using, them, all of them, your hatchmate, and you will not – ”

Dirk punches him.

He punches him and things crack and hurt and swell. There's red blood on his hand and Equius didn't even fucking twitch but he shuts up and that's good enough.

“You will not,” Dirk says, “talk about my brother like that. You will _never_ talk about my brother like that.” He tries to bend his hand and twitches instead. In the instant before he remembers to scowl, Equius looks concerned.

“I command it,” Dirk says, then turns and stalks out.

 

The call from Tavros is short and stuttery but mostly to the point. Karkat is staggering his way upright within three words and doesn't even pause to curse back when his elbow connects with Sollux's bony midriff.

“Hey – what – what the fuck, KK?”

Karkat waves an impatient hand, thanks Tavros and hangs up. He sits on the end of the multiseat unit, doesn't look at his moirail, sprawled tousled and sleepy across the cushions. Falling back into him would be tempting – is tempting – and he needs to find his foot enveloping garments.

“KK? KK, _what_? _Karkat_.”

He's got one foot enveloper halfway on and his full name stops him cold. He still doesn't look up.

“Dirk,” he makes himself say and finishes clothing his foot. He gropes for the other enveloper and and elaborates. “Broken hand. Rufioh is patching him up. Tavros doesn't know how it happened but – ”

He stops again. His feet are shod but he feels heavy, empty, like his clothes are lead lined with nothing inside.

“Fuck,” Sollux says.

“Fucking Equius,” Karkat replies. “Fucker probably won't even have a fucking bruise to show for it. Dirk has a broken fucking hand and he probably didn't even – the fuck am I saying, probably, of course he won't have a fucking bruise, he's fucking Equius and Dirk is just – he's just – ”

There are arms around him, a head on his chest, and he folds himself around the crouched form of his moirail and holds on. Not for long, not forever, not as long as he'd like, but he holds on and he feels – not better. Steadier. Like he can move, again.

“Fuck,” he says again.

“Twice,” Sollux agrees.

Karkat huffs at him and squeezes one more time before letting go.

“Be back soon,” he says as he gets to his feet.

“Later,” Sollux says, and when Karkat looks back from the entry portal, he's still there, sitting on the floor, watching him go.

 

It's been a long time since Dirk laid his head on Karkat's shoulder and back when he did it regularly it was a play to piss Kankri off. He doesn't do it now, in the vet's office, waiting for Rufioh to come back with pain pills Dirk won't take. But he might lean into his side, just a little. And when Karkat's arm slides around him, he might not shake it off, might let it stay.

But just a little.

Just until they get home.


	12. Chapter 12

Things continue to go well after Equius jumps ship. Karkat is fretting but Dirk is impassive, even as he shows up for breakfast more evenings than not, and even as his briefly-glimpsed pesterlogs show an increased amount of olive green. He's also talking to Jane a lot and not, Karkat thinks, just about Initiative business.

Vriska, apparently inspired by her flashmob bonding with Dirk, decided guerrilla activism is the way to start things off and Dirk is going along with it. Karkat spends a lot of his time, over the next perigee, lurking in public places, watching his friends and his human (he will stop being possessive when he stops remembering how it felt to carry Dirk into the vet's office for the first time, okay?) embarrass themselves for Great Justice. Dirk can't do as much showing off as he'd probably like, given the state of his hand, but he does more than he really should. Tavros disapproves and says so but Karkat has given up disapproving and just worries, even as he's unwillingly impressed by the things Dirk can do with his dominant hand out of commission.

The Initiative message board goes live and Kankri's one of the first to join. Karkat itches to ban him but restrains himself. It turns out okay, in any case – Dirk needs an intellectual punching bag like nothing else, right now, and their debate threads go viral in social justice and human welfare circles overnight, especially once Porrim pops in to explain their history.

Somebody called illegalBarkbeast starts a meet-up thread for humans, human-lusii, and sympathetic trolls, which is nice of him, in that it means Karkat doesn't have to do it. They go to a few and meet the guy – an olive blood with a rustblood matesprit and three human charges. Denbry – illegalBarkbeast – is a little vague, sometimes, but the whole clan is clearly smart as hell and he and Janara (her handle, judgingHistory, is familiar from the book recommendation forum) become the Initiative's first perigeely donors. They also have what Feferi swears are excellent ideas for legislative changes but slide into legal minutiae and case history so fast Karkat can't follow enough to be sure.

Two of the three humans are standing by, listening, and when Karkat asks if their lusii are always like this, he gets a snort from the eldest – who's maybe his age – and a grin from the youngest – closer to Dirk's age.

“Yes.”

“Yup. Isn't it awesome?”

The eldest – Sara – is shortly thereafter drawn in to elaborate on some human cruelty case Denbry swears could act as precedent for human personhood. She disagrees with this assessment and the younger human watches the ensuing argument with unguarded glee in her dark eyes.

The last human, aged somewhere between the other two, is talking to Kanaya about the differences between troll and human claw care.

Karkat has no idea what any of these people are talking about but he finds himself pretty much okay with that.

 

Their first argument – the crying fits don't count – is about clothes. If Eridan weren't so annoyed, he'd be proud.

“Don't like 'em,” Dave says, sitting in the four-wheel transport device in the wiggler department of the clothing depot. It's the seventh time he's said it and the seventh pair of jeans Eridan has presented.

“What's wrong with those?” Eridan asks, and tosses the jeans back into their stack without refolding them. There are clerks for that.

“They're purple,” Dave replies and Eridan bristles.

“You got some problem with purple, now?”

“I'm not purple,” Dave tells him, as if this were obvious.

“N – Well, no. But I am. And you're my – under my protection. So you oughta wear my color.”

“Dirk and Roxy don't. They wear their colors.”

“Dirk an' Roxy are older than you. An' anyway, Sol an' Kar are lowbloods. Ain't like yellow and mutant are anythin' to be proud of. Purple's the color of royalty, though. I'm royal and so are you so you oughta act like it.”

Eridan watches Dave consider this then scowls when he shakes his head.

“That's dumb,” he says. “I wanna wear red.”

“Kid, that is as low on the hemospectrum as you can get. And with your complexion – ”

“Don't care. Wanna wear red.”

And, oh gog, he's making the determined face, all set jaw and squinty-eyed and Eridan's only seen him make that face a couple of times and it's fucking ridiculous but it's always followed by tears.

“Dave – ”

“You said I could pick my own clothes. You said.”

“Okay, okay, I said, jegus, just – ” Eridan looks around for inspiration and catches sight of his satchel nestled in the bottom of the transport device. “How about this. We get you red clothes, but you wear my sign. It's a compromise, see?”

Dave looks dubious.

“Work with me, kid,” Eridan says. “I get wantin' to wear you own color but – what if you get lost? Ya gotta have somethin' to let people know who you – where you belong. Otherwise, they might think you're a stray or somethin'.”

Not that Eridan intends to let Dave out of his sight, ever, but accidents happen. Eridan knows this.

“Dirk doesn't wear Karkat's sign,” Dave points out.

Eridan sighs.

“No, but like I said, he's older. People're more liable to leave him alone or listen to what he tells them. Come on, Davey, we got a deal or what?”

“Don't call me that,” Dave says. But he nods acceptance and the shopping trip continues without further incident.

 

There's another meet-up some weeks later. Denbry's not there but Janara is, with the eldest human; Karkat sees them standing with Kanaya and Sollux when he and Dirk arrive at the outdoor nutrition consumption shelter, fresh from the vet.

(“This is another thing, that we need to change,” Tavros muttered. “No that I don't always enjoy, uh, seeing you, Dirk, but it would really be better if you, uh, saw a normal doctor.”)

Dirk is out of his wrist brace and clear to use his arm more or less as normal and Karkat is just about to call out to Sollux and share the good news when he realizes Dirk is no longer beside him. Dirk is – Dirk is headed down the hill the consumption shelter rests upon, towards a flap of blue scarf by the tree line. Of course he is. Where there are dumbass scarves there are Amporas and where there are Amporas, there is Dave. And there's Dave there is – another of Janara's humans, apparently. It's the youngest – Samy – and she's holding Dave, talking to Eridan. As they get closer, it becomes evident they're discussing sewing.

“ – not an expert seamstress by any means but if you pay for the material – ”

“Dirk!”

She cuts off as Dave begins to squirm in her arms, intent on getting to his brother. She catches the attempt and holds tighter, following his gaze.

“Oh, hi!” she says.

“Dirk!” Dave says again and Dirk raises a hand and flashsteps across the last few yards to reach them.

“S'up,” he says and holds out his arms.

Samy – petite and dark-haired, with rectangular ocular aids – hands over Dave with a nervous smile.

“Hi,” she says again.

“There you are,” Eridan says. “Was wonderin' where you got to.”

“Vet,” Dirk says. “Nitram says I don't need my brace anymore. How's it going, little dude?”

“Dirk,” Dave says. “Samy's gonna make me a cape.”

Dirk raises an eyebrow at her.

“Is she, now?”

“Well, uh – ”

“That's what we were just negotiatin',” Eridan cuts in. “Jan tells me she's a damn good hand with a needle.”

“She has to say that,” Samy says. “She's my lusus.”

Eridan gives her a stern look.

“But I guess I'm okay,” she concedes. “And for some decent cash, I can be awesome.”

“That's what I like to hear.”

Eridan offers his hand and she shakes it, grinning. Past them, Karkat sees one of her adoptive siblings – the middle one, Nanu – as well as someone out of place.

“Eridan,” he says. “The fuck is Cronus doing here?”

There's a beat of silence in which everyone turns to look and the human in the distance speaks. Both Amporas' earfins droop.

“Oh, dear,” says Samy. “I should just – I'm gonna – ” She waves a hand and hurries toward Cronus and her – sister? Eridan looks at Karkat.

“Yeah,” he says. “He wanted to come along, is all, and there's seem to be much harm – no more harm than him ever bein' out in public, I mean – and he is one a us, even if he don't come to meetins an such an – ”

Karkat realized, perhaps belatedly, just how bothered Eridan is by the gap between the hatchmate around whom his homelife once revolved and the friends he's so desperate to keep. He waves Eridan quiet.

“Stop it,” he says. “I'm not pissed, just surprised. Shouldn't he be sleeping or at work or something?”

The earfins are creeping back towards normal.

“Nah, s' his night off. He asked off, actually, so he could come, I think – ” Eridan looks away, towards Cronus, now talking with Samy and looking a little more cheerful. Nanu is in a distinctly defensive stance at Samy's side. “He ain't real happy with Kankri,”

Karkat's about to say something like, since when is anyone ever happy with Kankri, but Dirk speaks up.

“Incoming,” he says. “Could be trouble.”

A half dozen trolls – purple, judging by the face paint – are approaching where Cronus and the humans are talking, looking too loose and too smug for anything good to come of it. Nanu's hand is on Samy's shoulder.

As the first words are exchanged, Dirk hands Dave off to Eridan, who holds him close.

Later, Karkat won't be able to pinpoint how much time passes between first contact and the first punch. He'll only know – not long enough.

Samy goes down with no sound audible at that distance and Nanu lunges and Dirk flashsteps – Cronus is shouting, cursing, shoving himself between the highbloods and Samy's crumpled body and the Nanu falls, rolls on top of her sister (definitely her sister, fuck genetics) and curls around her.

Karkat is aware of Dave being pushed into his arms, of Dirk appearing behind the highbloods, distracting them with fresh meat, of his own mouth hanging open and of Eridan joining the growing brawl. It's three versus six until Janara joins in, shrieking like something wild, and there's blood on Cronus's face.

Somewhere along the way, one highblood seems to be getting closer, which is weird, why would – and then everything hurts and goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has an askblog: askinname.tumblr.com
> 
> Ask me things! Ask the characters things! Help me get over my block so I can work on a sequel!


	13. Chapter 13

Janara's an older troll than Dirk is used to, maybe twenty sweeps, but she's damn good in a fight and Dirk is pleased to have her. Cronus lacks skill but he's got seadweller strength on his side and Eridan's pretty good, more polished; these are highbloods, though, jacked up on Faygo from the smell of it, and experienced fighters to boot. If Dirk had his sword, maybe they'd stand a chance but – Karkat is down.

Karkat.

Karkat is fucking _down_.

Karkat, who was just fucking standing there, who was not doing a gogdamn thing, who was just standing there, harmless, holding a fucking baby, holding _Dave_ –

Karkat and Dave are down and Dave is screaming, Dirk can hear Dave screaming, and no, no, no, no, fuck this, no, and Dirk is screaming, too, he is screaming and throwing punches and trying to flashstep, to get there, to get to Karkat, to Dave, and he can't, can't make it, the highblood is over there with Dave and Karkat and Dirk can't get to them, he can't, he can't, and –

Equius.

 _Mother of gog_ , the part of Dirk that is in shock observes. _Your matesprit can make an entrance._

Equius isn't even running, he's leaping; one STRONG leap from the top of the hill, hair flowing, muscles gleaming, and he's there and the highblood is not merely down, he's fucking dead with one STRONG foot through his head.

There's a roar from the other highbloods and Dirk can hear Equius say, “ _You. Will. Stop._ ”

Yeah. That was one hell of an entrance.

After that it's five versus five and they have the STRONGEST troll on the planet on their side; these are odds Dirk can work with.

The thing is, he's never wanted to fight beside Equius before, but now it might be all he ever wants to do, forever, to fight beside him, to be beside him, to be with him and introduce him to – to Dave –

To Dave.

Who might not be okay.

It doesn't last much longer.

 

Dave is not okay.

Tavros says he is. Tavros says it's just some bruising, he'll be just fine. Dirk does not really give a shit what Tavros has to say, because Dave is not okay. He has two black eyes and that is not okay.

Karkat's broken nose is not okay, either; his own rebroken wrist is irrelevant and the mass of bruises that is his torso is not a concern.

He and Tavros are disagreeing on a lot of things. They agree about Karkat's nose, though. Not okay.

There are other injuries – Cronus took some claws to the forehead and needs stitches; Eridan got an ankle broken; Samy and Nanu really are okay, aside from some bruises and a claw cut across Samy's cheek; their lusus is less okay, sporting some broken ribs, but she wants them treated first and they are treated first.

Various fingers and toes are broken and dislocated across the board and Dirk finds it hard to care, even as his own thumb is popped back into place, because Dave's eyes are swelling and bruising and he hasn't stopped leaking tears and snot in the hour since the fight ended.

Equius is there, at Dirk's side, whole and unharmed, holding Dave very, very gently as Tavros, Rufioh, and some EMTS treat the wounded, and Dirk is glad of it. They haven't said anything, yet, might fall apart again as soon as they try, but for the moment they're together and Dirk is just – glad. Glad he's there, glad he's okay, glad he's too STRONG to hurt; glad he came and glad he didn't go again, once the danger had passed; just glad, so, so glad.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, once Tavros has relocated his thumb.

Equius blinks behind his ocular shields. He's not really holding Dave, Dirk notes, just supporting him on one arm while the other acts as sort of a guard rail behind his back. Dave is alternately pressing into the solid chest in front of him and looking back to see Dirk. Equius is always so careful with fragile things.

“You're welcome,” he says. “Though I confess I did not anticipate a brawl.”

“None of us did,” Dirk tells him. “But, really, you were great. Stellar timing. Good entrance, too, I was impressed.”

Fresh sweat breaks out across Equius's forehead.

“Thank you,” he says. “May I ask what happened?”

“Fuck if I know. The highbloods came up to Cronus, Nanu and Samy – those are the human girls – and started throwing punches. Didn't hear what they said, I was with Karkat.”

“You left him to – join the fray, then?”

“It's my movement,” Dirk says. “I'm the one who brought us all together. What the hell kind of leader lets his people get beat down without taking a few hits himself?”

“A more prudent one,” Equius says, then hesitates. “And, perhaps – less admirable.”

There's a silence. Tavros has been examining Dirk's wrist with a distinctly unimpressed expressed and there are three dead highbloods being taken away. Equius breathes, is about to say something else. Something Dirk isn't sure he's ready to hear.

“You should come by again,” Dirk says. “I can't promise no blood but your presence might be an effective deterrent.”

Equius frowns.

“Or perhaps an incitement,” he says. “Your guardian does not look pleased to see me.”

Dirk actually smiles. Equius sweats through his shirt and Dave snuffles in confusion.

“Karkat's never been pleased to see anyone,” he says. “Besides, you're in his fretting space.”

“Should I move?”

Dirk shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “You stay right here. Karkat can just deal.”

 

Eridan doesn't know how long Kankri's been there and he doesn't care much for noticing he's there, now. Assfuck hasn't started talking yet but he might if he thinks he's got an audience.

Eridan is seated in the back of an emergency medical vehicle with his broken ankle propped up and stabilized and his hatchmate bleeding at his side. Kankri is hovering by the vehicle when Eridan looks up, closer than when he'd first spotted him, and Eridan can't help the face he makes when their eyes meet. Kankri actually looks embarrassed but comes yet closer.

One of the blue-shirted EMTs stops him and Eridan looks up at Cronus, who's watching the scene out of the corner of his one usable eye while another EMT applies pressure to his bleeding head.

“ – treated a purple blood who didn't go for my throat,” the EMT is saying.

“Yeah, well,” Cronus says. “I'm a gentleman. You see our baby around?”

“Baby?” The EMT frowns. “Stay still, please. You mean a human? There are a bunch of them hanging around.”

“We got a little one,” Cronus tells her. “White hair.”

“I see him, Cro,” Eridan says. “Eq's got him over with Dirk.”

“Equius?”

Cronus tries to stand and is forced back down by a crackle of psionics from the EMT.

“Still,” she repeats.

“A blueblood's got my baby,” Cronus says and tries to stand again. This time the psionics stay around him.

“Cool it, Cro, I just said Dirk's there. He won't let anything bad happen to him.”

Cronus lets out an unhappy noise.

“I ain't trustin' a Zahhak with Davey,” he says, but there's not much he can do.

Kankri has been shooed back from the vehicle but he's still there, lurking, with a look on his face like he's trying to pass something stubborn. It's not a good look for him.

Equius approaches, just as the emergency vehicle is getting ready to leave, brushing past the guard EMT hard enough to knock him on his ass. That's kinda funny.

“Ampora,” he says. “I have your human child.”

“Yeah, we noticed that,” Eridan tells him.

“Ya wanna give him back?” Cronus adds.

Dave, listing against Equius's chest, perks up at the sound of their voices and begins to squirm.

“Eridan,” he says. “Cronus.”

“We're right here, kid,” Eridan says. “Don't hurt yourself. Do you mind?” This latter is addressed to the EMT, still applying pressure to Cronus's head.

“What?” she says, looks around, then grabs Cronus's hand and presses it over the purple-splotched gauze in place of her own. She moves to the vehicle doors and out her hands to Equius, who gently transfers Dave to her, saying, “He is also in need of medical attention. Perhaps ice packs.”

As the Amporas sputter, the EMT considers the human in her arms.

“Got it,” she says. “Thanks. Fandor, we're ready to roll.”

The last thing Eridan sees before the doors slam is Kankri, stepping up to Equius's side.

 

Between medical treatment, statements to law enforcement, and emotional recovery, it's about five nights before they have a chance to sit down together and talk things out. Equius is at Karkat's place when the Amporas arrive, but he's on his way out, gently clasping Dirk's shoulder and rumbling a wordy farewell. There's a damp spot on Dirk's t-shirt when he leaves, and drops of moisture litter the tile floor where he passed.

“He's been hanging around,” is all Karkat has to say on the matter but Dirk is more informative.

“He thinks the emergency law enforcement officials are going to come take me away,” he says. “What with the whole 'dangerous animal' thing I've got going on.” He gestures with his cast-encased wrist and Dave, in the elevated seat at his side, makes a noise of protest.

“Sorry, little dude,” Dirk says and returns his cast to its place in front of Dave so the smaller boy can continue decorating it.

“Which isn't going to happen,” Karkat says and plunks handled beverage containers down in front of the Amporas.

“Wait,” says Eridan. “Is that a thing, though? Were they thinkin' that?”

Dirk and Karkat both snort. Karkat is leaning on Dirk's seat.

“What?” he says. “You didn't notice when they were questioning you?”

“They tried to take me into custody as soon as they got to the scene,” Dirk explains, “on the assumption I'd attacked the highbloods unprovoked. Equius intervened.”

“Meaning he sweated and growled until they went away,” Karkat says.

“Think we missed that,” Cronus replies.

“You were bleeding at the time,” says Dirk. “And you were swelling. How's the ankle?”

“Hurts like a grubfuck,” Eridan says, as Dave is piping up with, “Awesome.”

“Heavily decorated,” Cronus clarifies. “And it wouldn't hurt so bad if you'd just take your damned pills like the doc said you could, rather than walkin' around on it, whinin' all the time.”

“It ain't bad enough for that shit. I'm no wuss.”

“Beastshit. You just like the sufferin' hero routine.”

“Look whose talkin', Mr. I gotta go tear off my gauze every hour to stare at my damn scar. Like you ain't spendin' all your time fantasizin' about tellin' war stories at the pub.”

“That's shit, I do not tear at my gauze.” Cronus looks at Dirk and Karkat. “I don't. Eri's fulla it.”

“You're fulla shit.”

“You're dumb,” Dave announces, not looking up from his drawing. “Tavros says you're both dumb.”

“Tav can shove it,” the Amporas chorus, then glare at each other. Dirk and Karkat exchange a glance.

“Anyway,” Dirk says, “if happened, even if you missed it. Law enforcement failed to arrest me then spent a few hours trying to get someone to say I attacked first.”

“Which nobody was saying,” Karkat adds. “Not even the louse-brained clownfucks. So they gave it up. But Equius won't quit hovering and bulgelicker here is encouraging him. So now our whole hive reeks of sweat and repression. Nice going, Strider.”

“I'm not encouraging him,” Dirk says. “I'm merely enjoying his company.”

“Ugh,” says Karkat.

Eridan agrees.

Cronus says, “Are you guys flushed or somethin'? Eri, you never told me that.” He elbows Eridan and gets a much harder elbow back for his trouble. A brief scuffle breaks out.

“So come on,” Cronus continues, once Eridan has gotten a solid bite on his finger, signaling the end of the match. “You an' big blue. Spill.”

Dirk 'hmm's and Karkat smacks him lightly on the shoulder.

“There's nothing to spill,” Karkat says. “They build robots and make infatuated googly eyes at each other. It's revolting but ultimately uninteresting. What?” He addresses this to Dave, who's poking him in the side.

“Dirk,” Dave tells him and Karkat, standing between their seats at the table, takes a step back. Dave nods, satisfied, and goes back to coloring.

“Fuck you, too,” Karkat says, but he sounds almost fond.

 

Once the masterwork on his cast is complete, Dirk carries Dave off to his respite block for 'brotime' leaving the unenviable task of explaining the concept to Karkat and Eridan. Cronus is so behind, honestly. Eridan would be pissed at him for only getting involved now, only – 

“Hey,” he says, when Cronus has excused himself to the loadgaper. He's comfortable in the knowledge such trips always take his hatchmate about five times as long as any reasonable troll. “Have you heard from Kankri?”

Karkat winces and shakes his head.

“No, thank jegus fucked on a two-wheel device. I saw him lurking around after our battle royale but he didn't say anything to us.”

“Yeah, we saw him, too. Think he wants to talk to Cronus.”

“You said something about that, that Cronus wasn't too fucking happy with him, before – ” Karkat gestures to his taped-up nose. “ – all this turdfuckery happened. What's the deal?”

Briefly, Eridan explains the deal. The conversation is a reprise of his own revelatory moment, with more profanity.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Eridan says. “Just – I know, right? Don't say anythin', he's kinda touchy. I have heard so much outta his dumbshit guitar, you don't even know. But that's why I'm askin'. If Kan decides to yank his head outta his backside – ”

“Pff.”

“Uh-huh, but weirder shit's been known to happen. An' if it does, it'd mean a lot to Cro. And to my auricular sponge clots.”

“I wouldn't hold the function of my respiratory system, dude, but I'll keep an ear out. With all the social justice hoofbeastshit he knows, he might actually be helpful.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I never thought I'd see the day I'd want Kankri on board with me. For anything. But I guess. You should ask Porrim.”

“And what're we askin' the lovely Miss Maryam about?” Cronus asks from the doorway. Eridan tosses him a smile.

“Dave's cape,” he says. “I got Samy on board to make it but Karkat thinks we need a professional to get the design right.”

“I think Eri's got the economic construct cornered on cape design,” Cronus says and reclaims his seat. “Speakin' of. We know how Samy an' them are doin'?”

And the conversation moves on.

 

Dirk carries his small brother off to his lab, feeling cool and content like he hasn't in perigees and is a little surprised when Dave refuses to be set down on the respite platform; he clings with all four limbs, face buried in Dirk's chest, and won't let go. Dirk cups the back of his neck with one hand and says, “What's up, little man?”

Dave wiggles and mutters and Dirk turns to sit down on the platform himself, the better to hug Dave properly.

“That was no kinda answer,” he says, stroking off-white hair. “Come on, Dave. What's going on?”

Dave mutters again, then draws back just enough to enunciate, “My eyes,” before burrowing in again. Dirk is glad the kid isn't looking to see the edges of a grimace on his own face.

Dave's eyes are a mess; they aren't really swollen anymore, but the bruising is profound, deep and ugly, and looking at them makes his chest ache.

“Yeah, you've got some sicknasty decoration going on there,” he says, when he's certain of his voice. “What about it?”

“S'ugly,” Dave tells his pectorals.

“It ain't pretty, that's for sure. But it's just bruising. Bruises heal. I've had some black eyes in my time and they're all better, now. It just takes some time.”

Dave mutters again.

“What was that?” Dirk shifts his grip and gives Dave a soft jostle, trying to make him look up.

He does, blinking sad, abused eyes at Dirk, and says, “Nobody can see yours. You have shields.”

Not strictly accurate – the bruising had leaked out around the rims, creating a weird, warped shadowing effect – but Dirk takes his point.

“I guess so,” he says. “But you could get some shields. Ask Eridan.”

“Eridan thinks tinted ocular shields are dumb,” he says.

“Okay.” An idea occurs; one that doesn't involve breaking his other hand on Eridan's face. “You can have a set of mine, then. I've got some from when I was your size. Eridan can't complain if they're a gift. Well, he can, but he can't take them away. It would be bad manners.”

Dave's eyes go a little rounder.

“Really?” he says.

“Totally real.” Dirk gives him another cuddle. “Just lemme up so I can find them.”

Dave gives an ambivalent grunt at the idea of being put down but allows it and folds himself up small in his spot on the platform as he waits. He looks so little and so sad, if kind of hopeful, it's hard not to grab him up again. But the search will go faster with his good hand free so Dirk tamps down the urge and begins rifling his desk.

Being a neurotic packsqueakbeast has its advantages; he finds the ocular shields within a few minutes and presents them to Dave with due solemnity. They're the same as his own, scaled down for his once-smaller proportions, and they fit Dave's little face like a dream. As expected, the bruising is still visible, high on his cheeks and around the temples, but it's less evident, now, and less sad. A faint smile lights up the room when Dave slips them on.

He looks up at Dirk.

“Better, now?” he asks.

“Much better,” Dirk confirms and lifts Dave back into his arms. “Very cool.” He carries Dave to the reflective surface hung on the wall by the storage recess. “But that's just what I think. What about you, dude?”

They stand, for a moment, regarding themselves in the surface. They look good, Dirk thinks, in their matching shades. They look connected. Like brothers should look. He holds on a little tighter and feels Dave grip harder in turn.

“Well?” Dirk says around the lump in his throat. “What's the verdict?”

After a moment, the corners of Dave's mouth quirk up again. Just a little. Just enough.

“Awesome,” he says.

And it totally is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. For now. :)
> 
> This fic now has an askblog (askinname.tumblr.com) so come hit me up, if you're interested. I'll be answering OOC, mostly, but some answers will be IC, as appropriate.
> 
> Thanks for reading. You're the best. <3


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